It’s warm and cozy in the old Irish bar -
A refuge from the rainy and cold night outside.
I am drinking a glass of a strong, dark stout
Feeling a bit lonely - I don’t know why,
and the night is slowly passing by.
I am a little tipsy and seeing it all in a blur
And think that the smell of old and mold,
and the sticky floor is mixing well with every slur
Which is drifting occasionally from the back -
where Laura and her friend the Czech -
They are an elderly couple with a spunk
I know them well, well now they are quite drunk.
Laura must have been pretty once and her man could have been the same
You know him - the Czech, oh what the heck
He is beyond description - tall and rosy
He always brings to laura all those poise.
Next to me is sitting Joe, he’s such a geezer
Drinking whiskey - he’s quite the teaser,
He mocks my job and silly rhyming
To him, it sounds like a cat’s whining.
He is quiet now although he usually never stops to talk
And is listening to that old classic rock,
An old song from the time when he was thirty-two
He said that it reminds him of a girl he knew
And maybe he is missing her sometimes too.
He’s been talking all night long of sad things,
How people meet and someone new is born to love
And then another dies and gets the wings
To make them space into this world so they can live.
Joe appears older, crooked, and tall,
In the mirror, behind the counter on the wall.
“I wish I wasn’t old” he utters out of the blue
“How old are you” he’s asking me, “I’m thirty-two.”
“Oh is it so?” he is silent, thoughtful for a while
He is somewhat sullen but is giving me a smile.
“It’s early to worry of an old age then,” he said quietly
And I feel a little sad for the good old man.
He takes a sip and embarks on a trip
To the bathroom - quite unsteady on his feet.
Two guys are sitting at the far end of the counter
At the sight of him, uneasy and his saunter,
One is saying with a snicker, “what a drinker.”
I am raising up my glass
“He’s not really a drinker but a thinker.”
They are smiling and are drinking to the cheers,
and go back to talking to each other about their fears
That only such a dark, rainy, lonely night can bring.
Then, “bang”, the door is opened with a swing…
A woman’s stepping in, brought in by the wind
She’s coming towards me and sitting on Joe’s seat
And my heart’s pounding yet decides to skip a beat,
for she is very pretty, but I ain’t feeling any fear.
She’s taking off her raincoat and is ordering a beer.
Then “Hello” and we start a conversation
I shouldn’t shorten it but in summation
We are getting along and maybe a new love will come
Before the wretched night ends
And rises up the morning sun.
As we are falling slowly, yet a bit fast
In that sweet feeling which might even last
Suddenly it’s getting so cold and dark in the bar
As if the lamp above is throwing now its drab light from afar
And my beer suddenly tastes strangely stale.
What is that subtle and so vile smell of decay -
One cannot perceive it quite well
And yet everyone inside the bar can tell,
That it is there?
“Hey where’s Joe,” I hear it, and in the air
Is a feeling for something new, yet well known
I am getting up and go to the bathroom door.
I open it.
Inside the bathroom is Joe - dead, lying sideways on the floor.
Then - cry, an ambulance, remembrance, and much beer
Ant last the night’s ending the morning’s near
At the first sight of the sun and the last lonely star
Me and Vera - this is her name,
Say goodbye to the rest and leave the bar.
We walk out both sad and happy, holding hands
And maybe it is quite sudden but this is how the poem ends.