GUILT FREE ENVIRONMENT

I always dig the old bars
paint peeling;

names etched on the stools;

floors chipped over time

and time,

we never have enough   

and yet

there’s always time to kill

I can while away minutes

and then hours

softly sipping or chugging

the bath

 room wall

will alert me who to call

for a real good time

but I’ll avoid contact

a dreary afternoon

suddenly

a dreary evening

time I didn’t have to waste

deftly killed off

in a guilt free environment

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/poem/1096870

OLD FOGEYS

This song never gets old

But your conversation does.

“This song never gets old.”

I hear you telling the person 

on your other side.

We’re listening to “Can’t You See”

and an old fogey

has to ruin it

with the standard old fogey complaint:

“This song is a classic.

Everything new sucks.  

It’s all forgettable.”

I can remember a day
when even older fogeys

were making the same rip

on his favorite tunes.

I remember when Tom Petty

was a pedestrian rocker.

I remember when the Clash

and the Talking Heads were

called disposable by fogeys.

You are right about one thing.

This song may never get old

but you damn sure have.

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/fuche_bu/poem/1063766

NO BETTER PLACE TO BE

It’s Tuesday afternoon

we should

probably have jobs

we should

probably have better things to do

and yet here we sit

A loud belch

from across the bar

recalls a shot of cheap whiskey

and another bottle of beer

is placed in front of me

Freddie Mercury is singing,

“Fat Bottomed Girls”

on an old fashion jukebox

I realize that I really

have no better place to be

a bum I might otherwise

look down upon

throws a kernel of popcorn at me

to keep me from nodding off

A guy wearing too much cheap cologne

occupies the stool next to me

I have to face away

as the fragrance of cheap booze

is more palpable

I down a shot of tequila

and reminisce about a girl

that I used to know

oh so many years ago

Somehow,

that all got messed up

My beer is 3 quarters full

and depressingly, sadly

I really don’t have

any better place to be

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/poem/1102807

CASH ONLY

A sign sets you straight:

It’s a cash only bar

and a bottle or Red Stripe

will set you back 3 bucks

It’s a dank bar

and most of the patrons

seem to be local

I hear “Hold on Loosely”

on the jukebox

and I’m suddenly remembering

a bad 80’s comedy “Spring Break”

even though the movie

used “Caught Up in You”

Some bands sound the same

regardless the song they play

although I used to crush big time

on the actress in the film

whose name I no longer remember

I see one of the locals

ordering a shot of Fireball

and on a dare

I order one too

In this situation

It’s just the right thing to do

Of course,

the guy bathed

in way too much cheap cologne

has to sit within 5 feet

Bring back social distancing

for the love of God

the sweat of the unwashed masses

is far less offensive

In turning away to save my nose

I notice the TV is running

“Oh Brother, Where Art Thou”

on a fuzzy screen

I’m not a man of constant sorrow

I feel great joy

an awful lot of the time

but a subversive film

in a local bar

deserves another shot of Fireball

another shot, another beer

set back another 8 bucks

It might be a long night after all

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/poem/1102779

CLEAR PATHWAY HOME

Quietly nursing a beer

anxiously awaiting a cup of chili

listening to two young ladies

that somehow lost their way—

couldn’t rent a car

couldn’t get a hotel,

missed a concert, had a 5 AM flight

a lot of porno flicks start out like that

but I’m not qualified to direct or star

I come up short

in both categories

no skill with a camera

and well, you know

we don’t need to go there

It’s not common decency

keeps me from posting dick pics

I wish I had words of wisdom

or at least some witty repartee

but I sit quietly sipping beer

a game is played by God knows who

airing on a flat screen TV

I feign interest in the action

It’s fucking baseball
I’d have a better chance popping a boner

watching paint dry on a fence

the two young ladies converse

with an elegant elderly woman

they’re having a good time

in spite their run of bad luck

I can see I’m not needed here

but the chili is warming

and I have a clear pathway home

and a dog waiting there

that actually does think I’m special

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/poem/1109907

RUN IN MY PANTY HOSE

It’s fairly well known that a lot of football players used to wear panty hose underneath their uniforms in colder weather.  Joe Namath and the Oakland Raiders were well known offenders. Several magazines felt the need to sensationalize the issue.   It made perfect sense to do so in spite the insecurities and biases of many homophobic football fans.  The sheer nature of the fabric provided warmth without being bulky or obtrusive.  I sometimes wore panty hose under my football uniform when I was young.  It was helpful to performance.  The panty hose barely showed so people generally wouldn’t notice if you were wearing them.  You really only had a small area of the calf between the sock and the shin guards.  Of course, I always dreaded that that would be the precise area where I got a run.  I have hairy legs poking through and causing problems.  You know if a run is visible someone is going to notice.  Alert the social pages, we have a major breech of protocol.  The embarrassment was always hard to live down when it happened.

Try to hide snafu

a run in my panty hose

endless shame we face

https://www.postpoems.org/authors/georgeschaefer/prose/1102833