The drear gray of another rainy April morning
Almost made me long for February when darkness
At least had the decency to hang around awhile.
The back bar was full of loud nurses off the night shift
At the hospital up the street.
Front bar was us, the shiftless,
Remembering when a morning’s drinking felt earned
By a hard night’s work.
A familiar face at the end of the bar,
I raise a glass, he nods a lifted eyebrow.
Dated his sister years ago.
City detective; don’t know if he’s
coming off or going on.
Vodka and OJ-perfect cover.
Used to call them screwdrivers,
Don’t know if they still do.
This isn’t the kind of place where drinks have names.
There was an empty stool beside me but he stood
Leaning-here but not here-eyes covering the door.
Don’t ask how I know, but he keeps a boyfriend
In an apartment a few blocks up the hill.
Cute kid. College student.
Too young for him but who am I to say?
Both TV’s were muted against the chatter
But you could see they were talking about drugs;
The words OPIOID EPIDEMIC slid across the screen
Like a banner pulled behind a plane.
There were pictures of pills and flashing red lights
And serious faces trying to explain the scourge.
Don’t know what’s so hard, he said.
You feel shitty.
You take a pill.
You feel better.
How tough is that?
The drugs ain’t the problem, he said.
It’s the feeling shitty.
That’s what we gotta get a handle on.
Outside you could reach up and touch the dark, pressing clouds.
It might snow yet, the fucker.