Closing Time by Malo Basich

The bartender stacks glasses,
wipes down the bar,
totals out the register,
the night’s final settling.

Waitresses shake
the smoke from their hair,
store their smiles in tip aprons
until their next shift.

The piano man loosens his tie,
slumps over a beer,
and studies the empty curves
of his hands.

A half-dozen regulars,
holdovers from the hopeful hours,
shrug into their coats, file out
beneath the chilly street lamps.

They’re asking all the usual
questions:  “What now?”
“Same time tomorrow?” and
“Where did all the time go?”

2 Responses to “Closing Time by Malo Basich”

  1. Malo Basich is, despite his name, an all-American boy, a pure product of the Hoosier State. When not reading poetry or working at his day job, he can usually be found listening to various kinds of roots music, from blues to reggae to old-time country banjo and fiddle tunes

  2. “Smoke from their hair” …. “where did all the time go”. Love it.

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