Tiers of overlapping conversations
fill The Dented Pail Beer and Ale,
but the guy sitting near the blender
still tries to chat with the bartender.

His charm makes daiquiri after
daiquiri take longer and longer
until customers complain and she
scurries to catch up on her work.

He’s grinning at his cell when she
returns and points to his empty glass.
He doesn’t nod or shake, just frowns
and lifts a hand to keep her away.

She fills the blender with ice cubes,
hits the switch. He clamps his hand
over his free ear, glares at her as she
grabs a cigarette and heads outside.

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