Visiting the only bar I
will go into on Brookline Blvd.
Lounge on the Boulevard,
but far from it.
Can’t go wrong with cheap beer,
and a quiet crowd.
Moe being my first bartender since I turned 21,
and couldn’t have wished for a better bartender.
Shorter than average height for a woman,
dirty blonde hair halfway down her back,
and constantly wearing a cute outfit that will always
clash with her tattooed arms.
Staying happy, besides having a shitty boyfriend,
but being a loving mother at the same time.
I always thank her for bringing me a draft of Yuengling,
whether it was my first one or last one of the night,
or was this my third Yuengling?
I count the American Spirits in the ashtray,
trying to keep one cigarette to one beer,
but there are six in there and I only drink four beers a night.
Hopefully Moe knows.
I feel like I can have more,
so with my current mindstate,
I try to write a poem.
I want the title to be “So Fucking What,”
Describing me, but I can’t write,
How do I start this?
As I scribble down words that I won’t be able to read the next day,
I chug the last of the current beer I have.
As I am scribbling more words in my little black book,
Moe approaches, That’ll be eight dollars
I guess that was my fourth beer.
I give her thirteen dollars, go around to the opening bar
and wait for her. Lean down to give her the weekly hug,
Have good week hun, see you next Sunday.
I gather up my bag, light a cigarette,
and leave out the same door I will come through
for weeks to come.
— Riley
Riley is a queer artist and poet who will be graduating from Carlow University with a bachelor’s in art and a minor in art history. Riley lives in Overbrook. Many writers featured in Chapter & Verse are guests of Prosody, a podcast produced by Jan Beatty.
