H e a r t   S o n s   &   H e a r t   D a u g h t e r s   of   A l l e n   G i n s b e r g

N a p a l m   H e a l t h   S p a :   R e p o r t   2 0 1 4 :   A r c h i v e s   E d i t i o n






More Bodhisattvas in a Dream


Buddy, you created this bar

& now we have to work in it

so you can hang out with us.


I served you an awful draft beer

in something like a hookah,

charged you seven bucks for it,

you drank it right down,

it was cold, humans get thirsty

even when you're asleep.


I told you I was going off-duty

& you should move to the tables

over by the bandstand, your friend

from the job you quit ten years ago

is playing, I know he sucks,

but the waitress is one of us.


Interestingly, you stayed in your seat,

eyed  a woman walking unsteadily

from the ladies room, like

 she was a drunken nympho,

& her condition made you handsome,

she's one of  us, too. Believe me,

you're not getting laid with her.

Then you fumbled with your change,

dropped it on the floor,

stuffed it in your wallet -

you have pair of tens in there

if you can find someone else to serve you.

Or you might have enough for taxi fare

since you're wondering where you are

& how you're getting home.

Let me reassure you, this bar is

approximately where you think it is.


True,  you're more comfortable

around us since your poet friend

advised you to be more sociable,

but you still don't have a clue.



[Originally published in NHS 2008, http://www.poetspath.com/napalm/nhs08/Bob_Rixon.htm.]