Two blond beers

Encounters with Bruce Willis Leonard Cohen

When ppl ask me if I have a hobby, I tell them it’s talking to strangers.

---

After an open mic,

I walk into a bar in Amsterdam,
hoping two blond beers will make me feel less weird
for projecting my words onto other ppl.

There’s a man next to me
w/his name on the stool.
He aims his half-empty glass
at my chest.
“What’s your problem?” he says.

I think too much

“Wrong!
Tell me your deepest fear.”

I can’t escape the rabbit hole

“Nope!
That’s two wrong answers.
Three strikes, you’re out.
Last chance—
What’s the capital of South Dakota?”

“Rapid City.”

“Ding, ding, ding!”

We form a half-hour friendship on capital knowledge,
as the young-20s bartender glares.

I don’t smoke,
but we move outside to
where tourists stumble on bricks.

“You know how many of them I’ve shagged over the years?”
His knee shines thru the tear in his jeans.
“Not a single one.
But I always win trivia night. Want to team up?”

We make a handshake
on his peeling palm.

“Do you like drugs?”

I pause for a very long second.

“I’m not a fucking dealer.
I only see the way you drink your beer.”

I tell him the sentiment is mutual.

He’s 47, but he swears he looks 70. “My face lines scream Bruce Willis.”
But I see Leonard Cohen
w/4 am shadow.

The bartender rolls his eyes,
as I pay for 2x2 beers,

and scurry on home to the love of my life.

---

Extra credit if you know the capital of South Dakota