The barkeep played the bongos, and well.

"A born loser," and my mentor sipped his beer.
"Nah, he just sucks at Quick Draw."
"It's more than that, man."
He put his bottle down and I rested my case.

I talked to Paulie later, his ears weren't ringing.
Bought him a beer, then asked for a smoke.
He almost blushed at both, but gave the latter
with an enthusiasm not worthy of the price.
I needed one bad, it was too nice outside
to not be drinking with the lepers in a dark bar.

"I wrote something about him," I whispered.
My bastard father took it as an insult to the man.
"He's a good guy, just a nobody."
"I didn't mean that in a bad way. He's a character."
It didn't register. The beer was too deep.
I gave up and continued listening to his dreams
instead, past and present.

Paulie realized where the second beer came from
twenty minutes later, then invited me out
for another cigarette on the porch.
The rate was unfair, but I'd set a precedent.
We stood and talked in the new March sun for a few drags.
He bragged about remembering my name.
I listened intently to the man of the week
mostly focusing on the Leo pendant around his neck--
the Lion Man: I was correct in my assertation.
The draft went down easier and I made a mental note
to keep following my gut, despite its many thirsts.

A round came out of my stack of bills
and the three of us kept drinking
until my two cohorts peeled themselves off of the oak
conspicuously or otherwise.

"Have you seen Paulie?" I asked a drunken female regular
a hard woman who scared me and
happened to be a corrections officer.
"No," she replied from her seat on the porch steps. "You OK?"
"Yeah," I said half-in-the-bag, the sun being long gone.
"You need gum?"
"No."
"You're chewing it like you need it."
"I don't."
"Paulie can take care of himself, wherever he is."
I spit out my gum and drove home.

Sometimes I go places more to observe than to participate.
The booze is just a bonus.
Call it my curse.