One Armed Bartending by Bruce Mundhenke

I once worked
As an one armed bartender,
In a downtown whiskey bar.
The crowd was rough,
The music loud,
Fights happened quite a lot…
While drunk, I fell down
And tore my rotator cuff,
Lost most of the use
Of my arm.
Couldn’t work for a while
At my regular job,
Thought the bar job
Would just be a lark.
Tax free money,
Rock & Roll,
And all the tips
I could make…
I didn’t figure on hecklers,
Who sat barstools
And pestered all night.
I also found out how hard
It can be, with one arm,
To try and break up a fight…
I learned fast also
That tips aren’t so good
Without the advantage of tits.
I was happy whenever my arm healed,
To go back to my job from before,
And I was glad to be
On the right side of the bar,
I’ll never tend bar no more.

Bruce Mundhenke is an unknown poet who lives in Illinois with his wife Mary, their dog Max, and their cat Gracie. He is an avid reader and finds in nature both inspiration and revelation.

 

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