Satchels in the wind

This one just wrote itself with hardly any help from me...

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How bright can you burn your light in the time that goes by in all the hypnotic trances that you swim through, said the barman rubbing the bar with a bar cloth that had seen better days and grooving away in something I couldn’t see.

Well, there you are, shooting off bullets, I said, pushing a fiver over the bar and asking for the same again and hold off on the questions until another night.

Broken wings it is then said the barman, and mixed my drink how I liked it.

What kind of question is that anyway I said looking up suddenly at the barman as his question began to register with me?

It just goes said the barman rubbing away.

What does, I asked?

Life, said the barman, and grinned stupidly at me.

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Stupid barman I thought, and gazed down into my drink.

It’s close to closing time now, said the barman, drink up your drink.

It’s always close to closing time these days I said, and drunk up my drink.

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Will you have another drink before I kick you out asked the barman?

I surely will I said and pushed my glass towards him.

Filling it up with the usual he pushed it back towards me and came ever closer until he towered over me until I didn’t know what to do with him, and so said: you are behaving like a fart in a fart jar.

And picking up my drink I went all the way to the other end of the bar where the drunkards were making their break through some kind of hell of their making with the hope to come out the other side whole hearted again.

I hated that barman with all my heart and wanted to bring him down all the way to where I would be waiting for him so I could stab him in the heart and know release from him.

So I schemed and planned until I just had to open another bottle to help me through the night. Pulling it from my pocket, I opened it; and as I was drinking away I did belly synapses around the place and cried and laughed all at the same time.

I was a year out of date of course and tiny compared to what came in next to shake in the barman’s face that I heard about on the grapevine next to me who was jabbing me in the arm.

It was that damn floozy from the other side that didn’t have a face, it was her with her satchels in the wind; and I hated her too.

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And as I stood there thinking, I thought that just lately I’ve been hating everybody, and I’ve been feeling guilty about it a little bit here and there, but as time flies by I’ve become immune to it, mostly; and so said to the barman’s question of before as he served me one last drink: I always bloom around midnight, that’s how strong I am I said, and left it at that…

It’s time for you to leave the bar now said the bar man.

It surely is I replied; and finished my drink.

You’re my best customer ever, said the bar man, so agreeable. Here let me shake your hand…

As I was bowing most humbly away and shaking the bar man’s hand the bar man offered me another drink with his other hand.

Is that the blind man’s hand I said?

And then I felt that I had to take up his offer, or else miss out on all the heavenly glory.

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I know, I was drunk, but I wasn’t sure that I wanted his advances that he was advancing. So I blew him a kiss.

You will get out of my bar right now, he said, and pointed the way to the door.

Staggering out into the night I threw my satchels to the wind and went looking for chips in the bittersweet night air that I could never get used to, no matter how long I lived.

Am I proud about this?

I’m not sure.

Ask me in the morning.

Image by yuehong Zhang from Pixabay

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