‘Behind the bar’

He sits behind a bar,
strumming his fingers;
in order.

Thinking of times past,
strumming his fingers;
he orders.

One beer goes down,
he strums his fingers;
and orders.

Two beers now empty,
he strums his fingers;
and thinks.

Third beer on the way;
he stands up straight,
and leaves.

Money left on the table,
pains from every hair;
he stumbles.

On through the dark,
upon pins and needles;
He bleeds.

His wounds concealed,
from judgmental eyes;
He dies.

by Luke(y) Skinner 16/5/06