Michael Julius Sottak

Charley's Bar

I just wanted a beer
before i went back to the ship
a really ice-cold Budwieser
the fog is already rising from the bayous
and i picture a cold quick glass
sweating in front of me as i walk into
the zydeco blaring past the green and red lights
that might be christmas, but look too old for that

block walls and a tile floor, pool tables
and a juke box... i don't look directly at anyone
just past their gaze, like i'm looking at someone
behind them, it's not good to meet eyes just yet
pull up a barstool like i belong there
and this barmaid comes over and asks me what i want...can't hear me, so i point...
and add a Jack to my order, tap three fingers on my left palm, pull out a cigar and light it...
feel a pool stick tap my back, but don't turn around...
"hey man, never seen you heyea befoa, wey you from?"

"i'm boat trash out de bayou at Intercoastal city"

"cool bro..."

i spin the stool around with the bottle in my hand
survey the probabilities... no one is staring at me any longer... that's good.

this old coonass grabs my ear, asks me if i'd like to come work on his boats, he's got a whole fleet of jack-ups and needs people, but the young bimbo on his arm is fluttering in his ear between pool shots with some young stud....and i feel safely burned into the situation.

the juke box changes to a softer mood
a fine sinew of Louie Armstrong winding through
smoke... and this redheaded Susan Sarandon lookalike is tugging my elbow... she is fascinatating, used, doesn't belong here either,
and i find she is from the California coast...
she tells me how much she loved her husband,
who just got killed in Iraq last year... and how she misses him and needs some loving...

i already know how it goes... so i repeated it...

"Our country thanks you for your loss, Mam"...

her hands slid between my legs
and i downed my whiskey...

drove away into fog