director’s cut/the art of carving

the kind bartender is about to close her place
no more peanuts
no more karaoke
dead beats, nutshells and the blues
on the floor and on the bar

the bartender is leaning in toward me
would you like another round of stout?

I can smell her hair,
it has a smell of the drunk laughs
Endorphins
loneliness
sneaky looks
and a bouquet of unambiguous comments.

this smell makes drunk people hungry
for many things.

God carved a woman from man’s rib!
(but the desire was created beforehand)

a sandwich, I said
can I have a meat sandwich, please?
smoked brisket, first cut
on the rye with some mustard
and the pickle on the side.

she is making me a sandwich
while I’m writing my name on the bar table
with the peanut shells.

when she finishes making
she puts the plate in front
and sweeps the shells to the floor.

I looked down at the shells,
they randomly fell
like in a Mongolian bone game.

A few minutes later
I finish my sandwich
pay and leave.

I forget the peanuts on the floor,
the kind bartender
and the meat sandwich.

Mastro Geppetto carved Pinocchio from a block of pinewood
but the Blue Fairy made him a human.

3 thoughts on “director’s cut/the art of carving

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