There's a local reading series that takes place in Halifax every Tuesday evenings. It's called the "Shoestring Reading Series". Takes place at The Economy Shoe Shop, a local bar. This poem was written for one of the readings I took part in. It's currently under submission to a contest involving poetry and imbibables.

Bar Song

High above the bar stools
that's where the life clings-
the cigarette smoke pretzels
like knots of wild pine grain,
the beer fumes and belches ferment
with all the boasts and love songs,
a thousand hard luck stories
thrown like stones in a wished out well,
pasteboard smiles of regret,
hollowed out pipedreams,
the sour candy apples of hops and hope,
the grease of alcohol streaked in a dirty shot glass
all of this haloes down over the balding head
of a man you call Bill or Curly or Mike
and when he asks you what'll it be
you try to forget what ever it was.