The bus grumbles by, screeching to a halt

a few feet from a local haunt reeking of malt

A quick “Thank you” to the bus driver and then a hop from the steps onto the concrete

The haunt, a dive bar favorite,

a place the unconventional gather and feel complete

I walk up, the click of my heeled shoes in rhythm with traffic as it passes -

one car, two clicks forward, exhaust pipes trumpeting their noxious gases,

and so on.

I get to the door, local urchins congregate to laugh and discuss the goings-on of the night. I light my cigarette off of one of yours, then give a quick “thank you” for the light.

Inside the bar, the band is starting back up again, freshly evacuated whiskey shots line the windowsills

and the drummer is stealthily sliding back into a sound, all rhythm, no frills

I walk past the stage, take a few steps and no sooner,

you’re there.

The singer, a woeful crooner,

He points me to the bar and signals with two hands,

“two drinks for us both”.

I comply with his demands

and return with gin for me and whiskey for him

We cheers and I inquire, “how about a hymn?”

He releases his guitar and we rest in each others eyes

as the bar murmur mysteriously fades out and dies

and only the moment has the stage.

The shots are thrown back,

I grimace and he grins.

And so once again the music begins

A few songs pass, each one prettier than the last

As I sway or shed a tear, emotions whirling, changing fast

Someone laughs heartily, someone else writes

feverishly scribbling by dim bar light

in a tiny notebook, untouched pages still serene

He writes in the tiniest handwriting that I have ever seen.

Someone else is glued to the tv, regulars, mostly.

Some are charming, vivacious, and others sorrowful and ghostly.

The band is due another smoke break, and I venture out too. The singer and I, the listener, sit together on the stoop.

We watch the people walk by, we get asked for cash twice, but only hand it over once.

“We get paid out later tonight, sorry brother, I don’t have the funds”

We get asked for a cigarette, and he gives the lady two.

“Want to go to the gas station and get a soda?”

“Yes,” I say. “I do.”

We cross the street and the open sign dances in anticipation, throwing a multicolored O, P, E, N on the ground like a roll of dice

You hold the door open for me, nod your head to show you’re being nice

The cashier tells the singer, “ah my favorite man! Make healthy choices.” And we laugh and make small talk in boisterous voices.

Then he sells him a pack of smokes and sneaks us a candy bar for free.

“Two sodas, a diet for him and the regular one, in a can please, for me.”

We giggle about the people in the bar, watch playful couples and old-timers and lovers of music from afar.

In some way, everyone tonight came for the music.

We all came for his and he came for mine, and our music together lets our hearts intertwine.

Strings in tune, we howl and bellow songs of love below the moon.