Half a Haibun 3

This bartender doesn’t like me.  I used to enjoy reading great literature and could recite poetry…“what happens to a dream deferred?” – might still help me make enough of an impression that someone sitting at the bar won’t mind making up the coins I lack to pay for my beer.

sweet brown lacquered tones

shoulders elbows, eavesdroppers

ring marks – hops on grains

hops on trains, buses, and brains

fingerprints, the smell of coins.

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