Soul Meets Body (In A Bar) Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

To go to a bar
In the midnight chill
Was a morbid past-time.

This is where life meets death.
This is where
Carnal intentions meet cheap sex.

This is where
My soul meets body.
I wouldn’t care if two people
Lunge at each other
Naked, with bottles in their hands.

I wouldn’t care if someone
Dances a farce.
I wouldn’t care if some patrons
Bash each other’s skulls just
Because they were drunk enough
To remember that they
Are humans
And not fools.

Now, what I would care about
Is that this bar needs me.
A neutral, fine line
Which tranquilizes the hostilities
And the crazed bigots.

I need not the dames
To stare at me,
Nor do I see the urge
To stare at them as well.
I need not to engage
In such ridiculous bar brawls
That only last a minute.
I want a brawl
Of the minds and hearts.

I guess this bar needs me,
More than I need it.
“A lousy fix, dear lad.”
I heard a waiter say
Whilst giving me a beer bottle.

It was a lousy fix,
In a lousy bar,
With lousy people
Stupefying themselves
Over and over again.

Sometimes I wonder
Why I always go to
Places like this.
But then, I remembered,
This bar needs me
More than I need it.

These people need me.
With their bloodshot eyes,
And chipped teeth from too much
Brawls, they’d come to me
And say, “Why are you unshaken? ”

“Why didn’t you do anything to stop us? ”
“Why did you let this fool
Take my dame to his bed? ”
“Why did you let me pass out
On the cold, bar floor? ”

I am vicarious,
But I am not your lousy fix.
This is where my soul meets my body,
And apparently,
This is where your soul
Leaves your body.