Barfly: Woman In A Bar

a broken neon sign flashed Mel’s
atop a small darkened bar
on the edge of town

the air heavy with stale smoke and beer
blended faintly with the odor
of dried spit on unclean bodies

she sat at a small table alone
pondering the world’s problems,
two drinks past seeing
beyond the unkempt nails
on the chipped Formica in front of her

the lines in her face
were knit as if by a palsied hand
dropping stitches
where a pox scar decided to roost

for her this was home,
at least until tonight’s john
with an empty glass
and full libido swaggered up
and invited her to the nearest no-tell motel

life sucks
but it was her life
and feeling in control,
a spider in her web,
she threw back another drink
and waited