Before Grassroots Closed

The bar still empty enough for a weekday afternoon

John kept pouring me free drinks

He said it was because I had been around so long

least he could do for another old-timer

But I think it was because I remembered Karen

the only woman bartender for miles around back then

The one who died of breast cancer

before anyone talked of such things

We both recalled her mob boyfriend, a made man,

who babytalked when he was drunk

And I pointed to the beat-up photo of Frazier

beaming from behind the bar

The only Black bartender for miles around back then

The one who died of AIDS

before anyone talked of such things

We both recalled him and Wrinkles every Saturday night

dancing on the bar to New York, New York as we all sang along

And John poured me another drink

And the rare light from St. Marks filtered through windows that hadn’t been washed since before anyone died

And for a couple of minutes

life wasn’t missing all the people we loved

Published in: Beyond the Clouds, the Sun – New Years Day Alternative Anthology; Unlikely Stories, Mark V