Pictures at an Exhibition
Dectetive Sgt wants a
postive ID on one of these
women. "We know they've
been hooking out of here
weekends, you had to see them,
shit, whores are big tippers,
especially on weekend tricks.
Why are you stonewalling us?
We know they've been greasing you,
hell, a blow jobs gotta be
worth $20, what's a blow job
in the Men's to a bitch like this?
Come clean and we'll drop
the whole shitload. All we want
is a positive make."
None of them looked familiar.
I felt like totally stupid, compeltely
out of it, a loser going nowhere
on a Monday night. I almost felt
like taping their mug shots to
the back bar mirrors and playing
love songs on the juke until one
of their faces started to make sense.
I finally IDed one with blonde hair
and a tattoo of Pegasus rising
between her breasts. Detective Sgt
seemed satisfied with the make
even if we both knew it was
a lame assed lie.
Somehow, closing at 4 AM, downing
boilermakers against a big chill,
I could almost see her getting pretty,
combing her hair out, applying
fresh lipstick in the back bar mirror.
Flaming Armadillos
His greased monkey
shine t-shirt said
PYROTECHNICS-
& it appeared
as if he'd been
sleeping in one
of those burn
barrels for hazardous
waste or maybe
just manning the
post that started
the flame & had
become so enraptured
with his work that he
forgot to stand back
behind that caution
line or maybe he
was on the way to
an audition for some
heavy metal band as
a drummer with a
name like SPINAL
TAP -whatever his
story was, it was
apparent that if he
started rubbing his
hands together better
stand back as odds
were he was going to
spontaneously
combust
Beam Me Up Scottie
( the cocktail )
After the original
tricorder readings
revealed no intel-
ligent life forms
all that followed
should have been
water flowing
downhill but they
kept coming in
the bar as if there
was a high powered
cloning machine
cranking out replicants
at an accelerating
pace, one that threatened
to take over the bar,
the street, maybe even
the town like some
kind of-happening
right now-extended
play movie in real life
of The Body Snatchers
grafted onto Star Trek V
The Final Frontier,
the episode where
the transporter room
fails to do its thing
& everyone left behind
on the planet
dies.
|
| |
Alan Catlin has been tending bar in the semi-legendary Washington Tavern in Albany New York for longer than he cares to admit and for more time than most of the people he works with have been alive (roughly twenty two years) He's been publishing for over twenty five years and recently published The Leper's Kiss, fourth volume of the Killer Drink series available from Four Sep or from the author.
|
|