Another Saturday


We toasted Katherine the Great

and wished her well, but really

we were wishing ourselves ill


as the fat bartender tiptoed up and down

on his rubber mats like a circus bear.

Each time he scooped the ice


I flinched.  It reminded me of a rock

going through a warehouse window—

another of Lorenzo's drunken hobbies.


I moaned some in Lorenzo's ear.  His eyes

bobbed away on a sea of booze.  He listened,

swaying, then switched back to beer.

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