peculiar vintage

she looked haggard hard worn given up of pretense settled into who she had been molded into by external pressures

she didn’t care what you thought didn’t need your opinion sure as shit didn’t ask for your help thank you very much

i liked her for the very earthen quality of simplicity and expectation she embodied in her nonchalant being

she would come over slam herself down onto the barstool with no remorse for that poor cracked leather or worn stitching

we wouldn’t talk until the first or third glass of smoky something with hints of bog peat or some such shit settled

even then just mumbles long past the need to fluff or pander in the contented air of two that had seen enough to be quiet

we didn’t need to talk about the goddamned weather as we had both been out in it so the particulars were noted

she had a kid but never mentioned her much past that it was a she from my vague recollection of too many shots

if it was like clockwork the clock must have been stamped irregularly whether by design or secret epic plan who knew

it took weeks before it registered she hadn’t been in countless packs of smokes drained bottles dirty rags run over the bar

one night she went to sleep for the last time plain and simple really more than most of us get i imagined sadly as i heard

good for her she deserved a bit of peace after a lifetime of small intervals of quiet amongst the screaming chaos of the void

i don’t reckon they make them like that anymore for a pretty good reason but hell if it wasn’t a peculiar vintage while it lasted

4 thoughts on “peculiar vintage

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