drinks

The Lit Tippler

A literary mess

But he really liked to write

He liked his drinks, too

Boy, could he toss them back

And write, and write, and write

Life was a good old fucker

He was one happy tippler

As long as he was writing

And always lit up

© Dicky J Loweman 2015

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Drunk Poet

One more

I think I can take it

cut off

What the fucks that mean?

you wanna tip?

Then come down here

One more

And we all go home happy

Yeah,  we’ll go

Your bar sucks anyway

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

Advantages Taken

Times like this require courage

Split-second decisions, accuracy

A keen eye and a subtle smile

Take notice to the time

And when it’s right

Take full advantage

Of the girl not paying attention

Motion to the bartender

Order a drink

And skip her in line

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

My Date With The Electrician

Yesterday was a good day, although a bit rough

I was trapped inside these walls

Held prisoner by an electrician

An electrician who showed up three hours late

I had things I wanted to do

Places I would have rather been

But the fan and light in the study stopped working

Hence the reason for the electrician

And why I was still here

I was completely fueled by all the coffee I had consumed

boredom makes me drink way too much coffee

I was pacing back and forth when the electrical rang the bell

“You Dick?”, the electrician asked

“You mean Dicky, don’t you”, I asked in reply

“Sure”, he said, with an all to energetic smile

“No, I’m not.  I’m the butler.  He’s not in.”

“He got tired of waiting for you, so he went out for drinks.”

“You don’t look like a butler.”

“Yeah, well, Mr. Loweman’s dropping off my tux before he drinks.”

I don’t think he bought it, but I didn’t care

“Your work is in the study”, I said

I was already filling a glass with ice

Ready to start this miserable, confined day

With any luck, he’ll be gone in an hour

I sat at the table, drank my old fashions and waited

Then I waited some more

I was teetering on trashed when the electrician appeared

“Done”, he exclaimed

“Good for both of us”, I sarcastically slurred

“Got one of those for me?”

“Glasses are in the cupboard, ice is in the freezer, booze is on the bar.”

He jumped at his chance

He came back with a tall boy, fill to the rim with my rum

He sat down, opposite of me

Like we were old friends about to have a conversation

“How do you like working for Mr. Loweman?”

He sounded sincere, I was surprised

“He’s an asshole”

That’s more or less how the whole afternoon went

We drank, talked sports, women and poetry

At his insistence I read him a few of my poems

He said he liked them

I couldn’t have cared less

He told me of his many writings, too

I was thankful he didn’t bring any

I was too drunk to listen to his rambling

At about 4:00 pm I told him he had to go

“Don’t want Mr. Loweman catching us drinking all his liquor”, I noted

“Right.  I’ll just get my tools, and be off”, he said

He staggered as he gathered his things and gave me the bill

We exchanged goodbyes

And a promise to keep this day from our bosses

Then he left

Without his measuring tape

Or my check

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

 

 

To The Bar, John

John, what’s up with you man?

What are you so afraid of?

Is it all these people?

Is it the quickened pace?

The squint-eyed looks?

Could it be the sarcasm oozing out of the sewers?

Pouring down on us like acid rain?

What’s got you so uptight?

What stuck you in that dark shell?

We all have our breaking points

You know it’s true

I, for one, hate spiders

But you?

You seem to have more than your fair share

Were you dropped as a child?

Teased so badly that your mind warped?

No luck with women?

Maybe you should check out the boys?

I saw how frightened you became

They were just checking you out

Didn’t even give you the common curtisy of a catcall

You are a trip

Come on, time’s wasting away

And I only have twenty dollars on me

Happy hour ends in forty-five minutes

We’ll get there just in time to spend it all

But seriously, what’s up with you?

What are you so afraid of?

Come on, let’s move

You can answer me later

Come on, let’s go

To the bar, John

You need the cocktails more than I do

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

Stalker

I leave the pub around eight

The crowd doesn’t fit my mood

Being a cool night, I choose to walk

Passing on the crowded streets

I catch a glimpse of you

A small chill runs up my neck

Caused by your piercing eyes

I’ve seen you before

But I can’t place where or when

Quickly thoughts are redirected

Thoughts of my lonely hovel

And my long walk ahead

I never noticed your change in direction

The wind quickened and howled all the way home

You were never more than twenty paces behind

As I quickened, so did you

As I stopped to roll a smoke, you took to the shadows

As I arrived at my abode, you watched as I turned the key

As I fixed a nightcap, you let yourself in

As I write this, you come closer

And as I turn, you deliver the blow

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

Rainy Night

Lightning flashes bright across the sky

I build a fire to keep me warm

But the damp logs just smoke and won’t ignite

It’s a cognac kind of night

Just a smidge to warm the soul

Of course, there’s none in this house

The rains are coming a bit too hard

No sense in trying to venture out

So I’ll pick another nectar

Maybe curl up with a book

Or relive the past through old photographs

Either way

It’s a rainy night

And nights like this

Seem to last forever

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

 

Grey Area

Boredom consumes me

I can’t find peace

In this restless house

Everything looks askew, dirty and out-of-place

Kind of what I imagine purgatory would look and feel like

I think I should go for a walk

Get some air

Try to clear my head

Of this grey area

I seem perpetually stuck in

The wind is stronger than usual

I find that no matter the direction

I’m heading straight into its arms

The sky gives off a grey-ish tint

Reminding me of the thoughts I’m running from

I think I’ll wonder home

Fix a drink

And take a nap

Hoping when I wake

I can start

Again

© Dicky J Loweman 2014

Watching, But Not Saying Hello

I’ve been watching her all night

She slips in and out of the crowd

With all relative ease

I’ve watched her match me

Drink for drink

We’re both keeping a fevered pace

she will leave for a few minutes

A phone call or dance

To pull her away

But she always comes back

Takes her seat

and occasionally tosses me a look

As if she knows

How entertaining I find her

As the night wears down

And the crowd thins out

I watch her as she gathers her belongings

And flips off another man’s invitation

She walks down the bar

and stops just behind me

‘Could have had a better night’, she says

‘If you only said hello’

And with that she’s gone

Through the door, into the night

And never to be seen again

© Dicky J Loweman 2014