Dumb Luck
There is a bar called
Dumb Luck, located on the
corner of “L” and “Word” streets.
They play the Blues there,
nothing else.
A man walked into Dumb Luck
and sat on a stool.
The bartender was Blue.
“What will it be?” she asked.
“Johnny Walker Black, up,
water back,” he replied.
Her eyes were lonely,
they never left his as
she poured the liquor into
a sad glass.
She gave the man his drink.
“What happened to the water?” he asked.
“Why do you want that?” she replied. She was Blue.
“So I can be sober.”
“Sober? Around here we call that misery.”
They drank and danced
Blue all night.
A man ran into dumb luck
and fell in love—Poor guy!
Copyright © Augusto Munoz | Year Posted 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment