Sitting in a dark Irish Pub
between my friends mother and father
I noticed the bar tender
She, a petite mousey girl, was fixing her smeared eye liner
which gave her the same look I imagine a doped up zombie would have.
She, now serving another drunk 18 year old, winces in pain.
Her back raw from the fresh Celtic Cross tatoo, the perfect
decoration for her perfect job.
She, taking a break from the shouting patrons, took a long, sweet
drag off her Camel and felt the soothing smoke enter her body.
She, just for a brief moment, remembers home and sneaking away to
the neighbors barn to makeout with Jimmy.
"Hey, Another Guiness?"
She, returns from Saratoga and can't remember where she is
for a moment. Then it hits her like a shot of Whiskey hits a
thirteen year old.
Temperarily disgusted with her surrondings, she grabbed
another bottle and then she came over to me.
"Another?" The normally cheerful line was ruined by the
deadness of her eyes which stemmed from knowing to much too soon.
I just smiled.
She, seemed shocked. It scared her almost to see someone smile
at her for a change. A smile. Not the demanding of another drink
like she was used to.
She, without a word, got me a Heinkin and gazed at me with eyes
full of pureness and a new sense of ease.
"Thank you. I'm Claire."
She, had a name.
Reason for writing:
I wrote this poem for an English project. Then I re-wrote the poem.
And re-wrote it. I re-wrote it SO many times I am scared to hand it
in, so if you could PLEASE E-MAil me. Good comments and BAD comments
(the latter will help me more.)
Thank you
Birth sign: Scorpio
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