Existential Storytelling
“I heard a note once,.” Charles said with conviction and bass from his gut.
Every night with chuck we reached this point ,
Existential storytelling, usually after four drinks or eight drinks.
Talking about government and it’s corrupt nature, the idiocy and beauty of religion,
And even the joy and sorrow of love, tonight’s ramble is brought to you by our
sponsor
“The Joy And Sorrow Of Love, making and breaking the dreams of many to come and
pass”
Taking a slight sip of some brown alcohol Charlie smiled and giggled,
putting his drink down with one hand
and covering his smile with the other wiping away the dribble of “Tela “from his chin.
“One that sung strong and proud”
Than he kind of shifted himself for comfort
With raspy sad reflective tones he stopped all our babble
With whiskey staring off into space or the wall
The side of me that is more romantically inclined would like to
Think at the time he could still hear this sound
in the dead silent pauses in between speech
“It’s funny, as I heard it was like it was already there
And the horn just reminded me to listen.;
A single note sad and sweet.
Walking the line of beauty and horror
A sadness only heard by those reminded
By some brass and a girl.”
We all sat and took this in silence
There weren’t that many of us,
Just four drunks and a bartender (I should of rounded up to five)
In a dimly lit wood paneled dive both happy and sad.
I asked.
“What was the name of that song?” they all chuckled
as the young one sat in awe of all the others .
I was shammed by there disbelieve of my lack of comprehension
“Hey chuck, name that tune.”
They all chuckled a little more and shook there heads.
As the bartender filled our cup Charles lowered his head close to me grinning
Perking up as he told me,
“Hey man, there ain’t no name foe that song, well there is but it’s different for
everyone.”
“??” I responded with my hand out in a “what the ?” manner.
“I’m telling you the song is the same for everyman but it has a different name for
everyman too!”
stopping to sip once again and my receive response.
“Ok, Ok, I guess” I responded still with a slight ignorance in my voice.
I could see there was love and pause as he stopped to crack the silence .
“The birth of my daughter”
I shrunk, no really I did, to such a tiny proportion
that I could stand in the barstool jump for my drink and fall violently to my death..
Frozen and tiny I sang up to him “I must of missed that one!”
The room exploded.
Copyright © Nathan Logan-Cooney | Year Posted 2011
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