Coming Into The Bar With Eyes Wide Open Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

The painted faces of illusions are the first images
that attack you as you walk through the door. Limping

attitudes displayed like tangled ropes of the mind.
If asked, these shapes will gladly join you in a drink.

Through this drug they find salvation, and so they hope
you are the one to buy the medicine they desire.

You might be thinking that they are witty. You might
smile at their presumed social standing. Whatever

your opinion, it will only matter if you surrender your
individuality. Bare your heart like a conglomerate of

resistance, hearing words spoken that are not meant
to be understood. How lonely is the world in this

room filled with people! One man sits alone at a table.
He flickers his cigarette like a cowboy in a gunfight.

With malice he pretends to be something greater than all
the tea in China. His moustache neatly trimmed like the

clothes he is wearing. You might want to sit with him
and share in his desecrated mind. You might think his

opinions worthy of repeating. You might wonder why he
sits in the same place night after night. And in truth,

he does have a home he can go to. A wife and kids which
he has forgotten to include in his life. It is better not

to be with him. Stand instead at the bar with the other
fallen angels. As a group they represent the blurred

headlights of cars racing over a cliff. Silence inside but
vocally loud. Shouting metaphors like a demon screaming from

hell. Some of the women are clearly inviting your attention.
You might want to share your penis with them later in the evening.

In doing so, you have become no better than the bugs that
crawl across the floor in ever bold fashion. They skitter with

pride in their false delusions, believing they are the latest
magazines of fashion. Pity that they forgot how to show their

true emotions. You might never leave such a place, you might never
remember how to run away. Night after night the same drama will

draw you in like a cancer that will not recognize redemption.
You will become one more cardboard cut-out in the fantasy of life.

People will ask what your name is. You'll wobble and smile like
a death mask on the wall. Slurp your beer and groan in silence.