$8 Adventure

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: December 17, 2015

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Submitted: December 17, 2015

A A A

A A A


Swiftly slithering through the endless sea of bodies
Glasses in hands, small smokestacks emulate poison
Broken stories being heard from mouth to mouth
The light dimly shines on caricatured faces
A model, a singer, a clerk, a pool shark, a bartender
Passing through on the cracked pavement
Stained with spit, ashes, and broken dreams
Filtering in between, ducking and dodging, zigging and zagging
They shift from side to side in an effortless fashion
Undulating crowds of noise and motion
Seamless masses of bone, muscle, and skin
Slipping to find the golden, worn out handle
Connected to a door with creaky hinges on a dark dingy brick building
Years of overuse and abuse have left scabs of time carved in the entrance
The doorjamb chipped and battered with scratches and digs
Entering the lackluster room with dark corners and faceless bodies
An faint odor of once strong cologne and perfume linger
Entrenched with the neon lights and flicker of televisions
Wild proclamations and forgotten sentences riddle this room
The thump of a subwoofer and high pitch squeals of tweeters
Mark the beginning of a welcoming, unsure voyage
Stools shift about with a distinct resonance, scuffing the wooden floor
Glass clinks teamed with loud song renditions echo out into the street
Scanning around for familiar faces... two choices
Leave now or forever hold your peace
Keeping the peace, a long wooden plank enters this field of view
Clean lines and a lacquered finish hold the circles of sweaty glasses
Hands rub gently along the top, collecting libations and wrinkled bills
A few winks and thank you's match with shouts of joy
"What can I get for you?"
"I'll have a Large Beefeater Gin and Tonic with Lime."
"That'll be eight dollars."


© Copyright 2018 James Money. All rights reserved.

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