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somewhat of a story poem. please excuse lack of punct. and caps, it's still rough |
the stranger part I i sat alone like every other night at the same corner table away from everyone else the bartender used to come over always trying to make conversation eventually he gave up when he got nothing more than a nod in response it was the same song and dance every night always the same people but not in that Cheers sort of way i didn't need to look up from my drink to know who was here and what they were doing my favorite to watch are this woman near fifty that calls herself Candy her hair bleached out, with three inch dark greasy roots always hanging limp and stringy around her heavily made up face she can barely sit in her skin tight acid washed jeans, apparently the only ones she owns always looking for a good time she struts every night over to the jukebox and selects the same old song no one ever dances with her or even looks her way most nights so instead she tries to look sexy girating at the end of the bar part of me is humiliated for her and part just feels sorry she doesn't look unhappy but God knows she must be to be in this dive every night then there's Mr. Wonderful his slicked back hair that does nothing more than accentuate his pug nose and greasy acne scarred face he likes alot of "man" jewelry to go with his tight polyester pants and half unbuttoned shirt i tried to be polite, but he's a persistent one, so i finally just had to tell him to leave me the fuck alone(oh shit! he looked up i hope to hell he didn't see me looking his way) He and Candy went home together a few times but both are just waiting to better their circumstance with the occasional stranger that has the misfortune to walk through the door usually out of towners of course no one local ever intentionally comes here, which is exactly why i do i sit nursing my drink staring into it like some goddamn magic potion wondering why the hell i come here i could just as easily do this at home and not have to worry about what i'll contract from the bathroom filth the sound of the door interrupts my thoughts a man i can't see well walks in and instantly has the resident at the end of the bar salivating as her hips sway from side to side Mr. Wonderful squirms uncomfortably in his seat at the sight competition has arrived, and from the looks of his tall lean muscular form it's doubtful he ever leaves alone the man does a quick survey of the room then to jukebox lady's disappointment he avoids the end of the bar and makes his way to his own little corner table with a better view i notice he's definitely an attractive man but has obviously seen better days as is evidence by the week's worth of stubble on his face and the tousled hair his hand has no doubt been raked through repeatedly as the always too friendly bartender approaches to take his order, he smiles readying for conversation he begins to open his mouth only to snap it shut quickly at the "don't even think about bothering me" look on the man's face he barks out a quick "whiskey" before throwing a glance in my direction as i openly stare at him i can't help but notice the strong angular jaw and dark eyes staring at me before i jerk my head back down to concentrate on my glass heat rushes into my cheeks at being caught but damn he is so good looking i couldn't help but stare he's no pretty boy, seen plenty of wear and tear but manages to have stunningly rugged good looks his t-shirt fitting snugly across his broad shoulders, chest, and flat no doubt muscular abs he's not wearing a ring and i wonder how a guy with his looks is sitting here unattached but of course i'm no stranger to that question myself always getting barraged with questions of why a pretty girl such as myself isn't married to some charming man with a bunch of little kids running around and from the looks of him, this guy's seen a serious heartbreak or two, i know that look all too well he downs his drink upon arrival before the bartender can walk away and quickly asks for another then catching me once again staring, he holds my gaze before giving a nod i give a small half smile, finish my drink and turn to signal the bartender for another turning my gaze back, the breath catches in my throat at the sight of our handsome stranger coming my way... |