The Poetry Corner

A Barkeeper's Coarse Complaint

By Alfred Lichtenstein

It's enough to make me throw the chair through the panes of the mirror Into the street - There I sit with raised eyebrows: All bars are full, My bar is empty - isn't that terrific... Isn't that strange... isn't that enough to make you puke,,, The damned jerks - the miserable phonies - Everyone goes right by me... Bloody mess... Here I am burning gas and electricity - May God and the devil damn me to hell: Damn It all... why is my bar the only empty one... Grumpy, reproachful waiters standing around - It is my fault - Not one damned person comes to the door - Cramped in a corner I sit with a hopeful face. No customers come. - The food rots, the wine and bread. I might as well shut the joint. And cry myself to death.