Hanging with Amanda Shires this morning and a poem.
I fell in love with you when I saw you telling the whiskey. Fuck you, fuck everything. I told the bartender. Please give the pretty lady another whiskey. She is having a whiskey night. She turned to me. I smiled and she attempted a smile. I left her alone in her silence. I knew. Sometimes more words, just adding-up more useless sentences. We do not need.
The bartender brought me a double shot of Black Velvet. He told me. I told her. You loved the Soldier’s whiskey. I turned around and she was behind me. Her eyes heavy with wildness and her voice. Spicy and sweet. She asked me. Are the soldiers not polite? You bought me a whiskey and you left me be? And my name is Amanda
I told her. Dear Amanda, sometimes we need the whiskey nights. Some nights, we need the fuck you nights. Some night, we don’t need useless voices and my name is Johnnie. The bar poet.
She laughed and my words. She whispered. You damn bar poets are the quiet ones. You are seeking to conquer. You are watching the world around you. What do see in my bad behavior. Am I Devil or Angel?
I looked into her coffee brown eyes and I told her. I see me dear Amanda. We are hell-bounded and we love the journey. Some people want heaven and I want the Purgatory Inn. I will play chess forever and maybe find brethren in life.
She thought a minute and she asked me. Is the seat free soldier? I told her. Yes Amanda. Always room and time for a beautiful woman. Maybe you can tell me a tale?
Coyote