So much for the double-header, again the booze got the better.

Today I picked up a check
from my union hall to reimburse
a dental bill I had. I don't have an
account with their bank
so a fingerprint and photo ID were required
to cash it. I knew the drill, fascist as it is
but didn't anticipate the remark from the bank teller
since I always expect it but never receive it
when handing over my license to buy booze
or smokes.
"This was a long time ago," he said
in reference to the young appearance
of my typically terrible license picture.
"Yeah," I replied as I forced air through
my nostrils in a barely audible laugh.
"My nose was broken and I had two black eyes
when I got it renewed a few years ago
so I passed on the new photo."
He shook his head and tapped his keyboard
some more while I waited for that laugh
that never comes. (I guess that incident is
only funny to me; it really was hard to hear him
that night at the bar, though.)
It was as though he didn't believe it was me
at first, beard and facial scars and all
but finally saw the resemblance in the eyes, still
just as stern
yet piercingly hopeful.
(Maybe I was handsome then, just didn't notice.
Now it's a far cry, especially on the inside, despite
a not-so-general consensus of the less fortunate.)
He counted my bills aloud, I shoved them into
my pocket and got the hell out of there
before he thought better and tried to
accuse me of impersonation.
And rightfully, perhaps.

While I'm at it, why is it that
people watch football in groups
but baseball alone?
Probably because
as much as I hate it, it's
a sport similar
to this.