The Bartender

Calm, collected, crowded by lip-bloated fans;
He’ll get what he wants even if his eyes drop
on the bashful enjoying fried pleasures.
Nights of hard work tipped by the body
and mornings paved by tired hours.
While Bob Dylan is singing about tangled Blues
he’ll weave his web – rugged looks
and enough drinks to boost charisma;
he’ll get what he wants even if his words
don’t run smoothly down her throat.
Calm, collected, crowded by lip-floated fans,
the bartender is king & only the night is his

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