THE MAN AT THE BAR
He was sitting there at the bar,
Drinking drinks and occasionally looking about.
It was clear he was waiting for a person,
Most likely a broad.
Finally a broad came in and sat down,
But not next to him.
He didn’t care.
He chatted her up,
Smiling like a fool,
His face all red and sweaty.
They went through the game,
made the motions, the nods,
Then got up,
The man grinning broadly,
Knowing he’d scored the broad.
“oh, wait,” he said,
Beckoning the unconcerned barman.
“do you have a pen and paper.”
The barman nodded and came back with them.
The man scribbled MARY on the piece of paper,
Then wrote a little note, folded it,
And slipped it to the barman with a wink,
Then he left with the broad he’d met.
The barman unfolded the note and read,
“I had to go. So sorry.
Exhausted from a long day’s work.
Maybe we can set up a time to meet again?
Please give me a call, Jim.”
The barman chuckled, crumpled up the note,
And threw it in the trash.
What the hell did he care?