Damage Control

With thoughts of getting fish-faced on a Friday night, I dropped anchor in a portside bar To contemplate the crooked path to closing time; Couldn’t guarantee I’d get that far. I ordered a tequila, called myself a salt, And I joked about a mocking bird. The barmaid rolled her eyes as she filled up my glass And she labeled my routine absurd. I rummaged through the pockets of my uniform; I was looking for a precedent. I found a crumpled Lincoln and an Andy J., So I paid the gal a compliment. The regulars were drinking what they always do, All oblivious and unconcerned. Some guy was shooting billiards in a cowboy hat With a shirt that read, “My love was spurned.” I shouted out, “Hey redneck with the broken heart, You have got to be one worthless sh*t To advertise your sorrow to the whole damn world. I suggest you just get over it. He said I’d best be leaving if I like my teeth, Or he’d make me leave a few behind When he teaches me the meaning of humility. I replied that I was not inclined. He sneered at me like something he might wipe and flush And he cautioned me to say my prayers. I asked him if there’s liquor in the afterlife, Then excused myself for splitting hairs. The waitress looked for cover and the barmaid sighed While the regulars just sat and drank. I told them not to worry; they’d be entertained. They could take that promise to the bank. I hollered at the fellow, “By the way you drool, I imagine you’re the hungry sort. Why don’t you gut a pig for dinner, pal, So that later you can fart and snort.” He swung around his cue stick by its business end. It was menacingly poised to strike. I chuckled at his folly in an offhand way And I told him he should take a hike. “But better yet,” I told him, “If you use your head, And take a look around, you’ll see You might consider something less dramatic Than to murder me to that degree. I said, “A better way to muscle through your pain Is to barter what you feel right now For currency more useful in the longer run. If you’re savvy, I can tell you how.” I said, “Let’s take a minute to review this case And we’ll let this barroom be the judge Of whether it is you or I who plays the fool And if anyone should hold a grudge. The issue that’s before us is a simple one And it doesn’t take much brains to see That someone here’s the victim of a faithless heart. And I’ll tell you friend, it isn’t me. I’d never let a woman drag me through the mud Like the way you say she done to you. Stop whimpering and whining like a slave to love. It’s just self-pity, brother, plain and true. The atmosphere inside the bar was road tar thick, Hot and silent as I made my stand. The regulars all chuckled and the barmaid laughed. It was cowboy’s turn to show his hand. He lifted up that cue stick as he glared at me, Then he lowered it and shook his head. He told me, “God damn, sailor, better check the time. You were seconds close to being dead.” I laughed it off and told him that I liked his style. There was justice here, without a doubt. I bowed before my audience and bought a round As he turned his t-shirt inside out.