The Goat
Sittin in a bar alone
I think of words I wrote.
Counting dollars on the wall
at a place they call The Goat.
The waitress took my order,
eyes shining like a star.
I ordered up some pancakes
from Christina at the bar.
Music touched my memories,
in the corner a TV.
Just outside the window
I could turn to see the sea.
Footprints in the snow outside
from lovers taking walks.
Just beyond the concrete wall
waves crashed against the rocks.
Former ways and yesterdays,
I looked in time to find.
Somewhere along the way back there
are the pieces of my mind.
And I'm sittin in a bar alone
thinkin bout the things I wrote.
Counting dollars on the wall
at a place they call The Goat.
Edwin C Hofert
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