Liverpool over Everton

Jerry is wearing blue jeans
and a white button down shirt
when I hear his gentle Irish accent,
“Hey man, how are you?
what can I get you?”

“I’m doing ok. Thanks.
I’ll take a Hennessy’s neat,”
I smile.

I settle onto a stool,
push my elbows onto the polished wood
and listen to the sound of everyone
cascading over the room like water
playing its way over a dam.

Liverpool is running
down the field in red
past the boys in blue
— a goal is coming
a goal is coming
a goal is coming

The announcer yells, “GOoooooaaaal!!!!”
and a few people look up and smile.
I want to care
more than I do
then Jerry pours the hennessy’s

I care less but smile more
who knows if I’m being watched
or by whom — all that matters is this smooth heat
and this moment alone
surrounded by people who could not care less
about me.

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