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.]