Two out of three ain’t bad.
Two out of three ain’t bad.
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
Lonely are the people who wasted love and friendship.
Two out of three ain’t bad.
I was sitting alone in a Austin tavern in 1996.
Drinking long Island ice teas.
Trying to get blinded.
A old man dressed poorly ordered a water.
Bartender gave him a bad look and walked away.
I told the bartender.
He drank the Long Island ice tea quickly.
I ordered him another.
He thanks me.
Asked me. “Was I alright?”
I told him.
“Not too good.
But I will be fine.”
He touched my back.
Told me.
“You got two out of three.
Better then most of us.”
He looked outside to the cold rainy night.
Told me.
“All three are hard to hold on to.
You got the booze. Number one.
You still got the road. Number two.
You still got a lot of living left.”
“The third one ain’t so easy.
Love cost a lot.”
I bought another round.
He raised the Long Island.
Make a cheer to life.
“To the road.
To better days.
To good booze and wine.
To sweet woman lost on the road.”
He smiled and told me “I was successful once.
I had the big house.
The beautiful wife waiting for me.”
“I choose the booze.
I loved the road too much.
Now I sitting with you.
Alone and wishing I held on tighter.”
I looked into his sad eyes.
Asked him. “What was really important?”
He smiled.
Told me to order him a double shot of whiskey.
I ordered the whiskey.
He drank in down quickly.
He whispers “Hold on, tightly and be thankful.
If you find the sweet woman.
Who loved you.
Hold on.
Nothing as sad as a old man dying alone.”
I left him.
Gave him a few dollars.
Thanks him for the advice.
I learn two out of three isn’t so good.
Need someone to love and care for you.
Before it is too late.
Coyote
3 July 1996
I was trying to remember where I was on 3 July 1996 – and then I remembered. It was a good memory: no road; no booze; plenty of love. More than enough to go around. One out of three was fine. That’s all gone now. Wives die. Kids grow gone, elsewhere and otherwise. Now it’s just the road. I suppose one out of three will just have to do. But who’s counting?
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17 years does change a lot. Life goes on and maybe if we are lucky. Find some good reasons to keep going. Thank you for the comment.
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A simple, beautiful message. I love how deep and rich your poems are.
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Thank you Sylvie for the comment. You are very kind.
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Words and memories of elderly people have always enthralled me. When I was young I used to be impatient with their cryptic half sentences, but now I know better. You have captured this beautifully in your poem.
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Thank you for the comment. A wise person listen to the elders. They can make our life easier.
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WOW! But truer words were never spoken. My father loved the booze. . .my brother loved the booze AND the pills. . .I loved the booze, but I held on to my husband and quit the booze. Your words are very powerful and in my own way I hope they help another one to see the truth in these words.
Blessings,
SandyO
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Most of us will learn the hard way. Men in the past thought cigarette and the good drink was norm. In my young days in the Army. We would drink and smoke. Life was to be enjoyed. Things had change. For the better. Thank you for the comment.
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It’s melancholic, but has wisdom.
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Lessons can be learn in the dark places in a life. Thank you the comment.
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Yes. To love and be loved, is what happiness is all about…
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Took me 35 years to slow down. Family and love is life to the wise man. Thank you for the comment.
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🙂 Keep family and love is not going anywhere;)
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You are a man of deep thought. Nice poem.
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Thank you John for the kind words.
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