the man, the tender.
he'll be on his break, smoking as many menthols as he can before 10—
before ten, the 10A rolls loud afterhours;
the man, the tender pays attention to the Sound
watching the train tracks, watching for the highway for the figure
the figure, I cross at a lean
at a lean and he knows it's me and he burns the tobacco down low
"Hey, izzat you?"
and I wave and say "Hey man,"
the man, the tender,
he says "I'll have one waiting for you."
and he goes back inside but I don't want to drink—
I'm just glad to be back in town with one bag on my back and I'm straining to walk across the highway but the flourescent flashes at me and the sign keeps on and I see the colors and the familiar front door and all that's left is the tender and his "HEY"
So, the man, the tender pours me a drink before I'm through the door
and says "Welcome back."
and it ain't been five minutes.
Gonna be a good night.