BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE

BETWEEN A ROCK AND HARD PLACE
he had lost his job
been laid off
like so many other men
and so instead of going to work
he came to the bar
like so many other men
“I can’t tell her I lost my job,” he said.
“so I’ve got nothing else to do
but come to the bar
and have a few beers.”
the logic made sense
and I didn’t question him
“she’d just worry herself sick,
if she knew I’d lost my job.”
so he’d sit on a barstool
put back his beers
and step outside often
to smoke from his pack of cigarettes
after he’d had a few beers
he’d turn to me and smile
and say, “you know, I feel like I’m stuck
between a rock and hard place. And
hell, it really ain’t that bad.”
I stared at him
watched him drink
a merry twinkle in his eyes
and I reminisced about my many, many days
and nights of unemployment
but I could never fully enjoy them
when I was living them
too concerned about the rent due
the credit card bills
the money for groceries
so I admired that in him
his ability to sit there on a barstool
defeated and rejected
appearing to truly believe that
hell, it really ain’t that bad