not sleeping anymore

i'm

watching ticks of a hand like taps of a guitarist’s shoe. numbers are usually
absent on Monday nights. still, beneath circular light, songwriters switch at
intervals set. between ornamental pillars the bartender rolls silverware,
tasting an occasional beer. he smiles, during the change of turn.
i got “smooth” and “soulful”, fortunes from a paper cookie. as i shift, the guy
next gets a few more during the week’s announcements. i smile, set my
guitar juxtaposed to the doorway, and sign up again.

posted by d @ 2:17 PM