Early Orders Poem by Matthew Holloway

They gather each morning
Order a beer for breakfast
Sift through the racing guide
Trying to pick a winner
Grumbling complaints about their wives
The same old faces
Old men well set in their ways
Overloaded in stories
That never lead anywhere
Or offer an anicidote
It's nine in the morning
And they nurse the first drink
Of the day, the will be many
Just because you can
Doesn't mean you should
I muse to myself
Who am I to judge
They are hurting nobody
Just living out retirement
In a fashion the suits
That life's not for me
I decide over coffee
I'll have a drink later
Sometime after twelve
When I feel better
It's early and I'm sober
Already onto a winner