Life At The Local Is Constant Poem by Melissa Coventry

Piano flows through the air,
Breathing life,
The voice of the lone singer,
Hums to himself,
The bar is closed.

The joker plays card tricks
As the juke box croaks tunes,
And the haze of smoke lifts,
The sound of smashing glass is clear
As the lights on stage flicker.

The drinkers are asleep, leaving or staying,
The wives wait outside.
The clock strikes two,
And the cleaner stacks chairs,
Then vacuums the room.

The noise of a swinging door is constant,
With a storm outside,
Blowing a breeze over the hot stale air
Consumer find peace here
They find solitude in their broken lives.

The pokies cash in,
As the minors seek in,
About the time when the bar maids leave.
Life is constant at the local,
As a good drink is on tap at 3 pounds each…