The Bar Down the Street

Before the doorman can check id’s
   a young man
      stops us.
        ‘It’s my birthday.
            You have to kiss me to get in.’
               He presents his cheek;
I kiss it without hesitation.

On stage, a woman is riffing
   and rhyming and whooping
      and cursing. The paired sexes
         applaud voraciously. A beauty
            pageant is underway. Thursday nights
               are a drag.

‘Johnny Black, rocks for me and
   Jim with a splash of coke for my
      friend.’ He doesn’t short us on
         volume. For the 2nd
            the female bartender ignores me.
               ‘I’ll have to get HIS attention,’
I say.

As we are leaving, there’s a disagreement
   over who was getting checked out.