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