Summer nights at Dick’s Bar with the tall

upright industrial fans


blowing the heat around sounding muffled

but loud like a prop plane idling


in a distant airport hangar and the ballgame

barely audible on the cheap radio


and we waited forever to get a beer

when the Tigers were batting


discussing the pushback of the revolution

the delay of dreams.


We made conversation in close lips to ears

until the game broadcast


was over and clicked off and the fan motors

were snapped off


together in the same instant freeing one

lone human voice to ring


out clear and loud in the barroom

as if amplified


“all packed in there asshole to elbow

and the pigs….”


a slice of a complete thought hanging

in Dick’s Bar


dangling in time in a silent way waiting

for a new beginning.


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About Mark James Andrews

Mark James Andrews is finding optimism in uncertainty. He has work forthcoming in Chiron Review, Third Wednesday and a couple other hot spots.
   1 week ago
Dick was a Buddhist-nicely done looking forward to some more

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