Underground_Network
May 9th, 2010, 05:32 PM
Glum Maiden
She sits by the bar
Not drinking,
Not thinking.
She twiddles her thumbs,
Appears discontent,
Brows pressed inward and down,
Lips aquiver and nose shifted to the left
Just a quarter of an inch.
She speaks without saying a word
As the man by her side departs the bar,
Head tilted down, as if drowned in a sorrow
Brought on by the loss of a close relative.
The bartender has given up on
Trying to service her,
As she continues to twiddle her thumbs
And stare down at the lonely coaster
In front of her.
It says “Gatsby’s Plumbing”
In gold letters
Across its navy blue background.
She never lifts her head,
But she waves at the bartender
With her scrawny white hands
And whispers a phrase so inaudible
Only a deaf man could hear it,
And the bartender turns away,
And begins to weep.
She sits by the bar
Not drinking,
Not thinking.
She twiddles her thumbs,
Appears discontent,
Brows pressed inward and down,
Lips aquiver and nose shifted to the left
Just a quarter of an inch.
She speaks without saying a word
As the man by her side departs the bar,
Head tilted down, as if drowned in a sorrow
Brought on by the loss of a close relative.
The bartender has given up on
Trying to service her,
As she continues to twiddle her thumbs
And stare down at the lonely coaster
In front of her.
It says “Gatsby’s Plumbing”
In gold letters
Across its navy blue background.
She never lifts her head,
But she waves at the bartender
With her scrawny white hands
And whispers a phrase so inaudible
Only a deaf man could hear it,
And the bartender turns away,
And begins to weep.