-saga of the lonely young woman-

1.

at the bar with the songbird,

the band’s jazzy frontgirl, personal healer

to the emotionally needy,–– overlooking

Narraganset Bay, the mouth to Rhode Island Sound,

overcast atmosphere, but bright nonetheless.

It's cool, for May 30th.

menus at the ready, the house

black angus burger for me,

Bahamian conch salad for her.

I’ll have a "Narraganset" Lager Beer.

(when in Rome..)

I ask for a pilsner glass.

she wants a "Bloody Mary" with "Ketel One".

our bartender’s pleasant without being outrageous.

there’s a young woman sitting alone at the far end of the bar.

she’s a red wine drinker.

she appears to be in some sort of distress.

her secret love is our bartender’s sidekick

chatting at his station.

she’s smiling and talkative in his presence.

he’s charming without being totally engaged and she seems

to sense this in his attitude when he walks away.

he addresses customers with a helpful: “can I get you another drink”?

he asks her the same question with the same inflection

and continues with his tending of others.

2.

the bartenders meet near the middle, near the equator,

for kindred repartee, closer to our end of the planet.

she’s on her second glass which is now, nearly empty.

she’s pathetic, lonely, forlorn and sweeps the last red

flow of wine to her lips and is done.

he rings-up the tab, placing it in a snazzy, leathery ledger

and she pays him with a scroll of its pen and leaves the bar.

he wipes her away with a brisk, damp cloth.

3.

we’ll talk about seagulls now, hovering out there for a morsel of bread,

a french fry spotted on the wing,–– a human offering of recognition.