Lara crouched behind the bar searching for notes on how to live a better life. She was tired of night after night of red-faced, smoked laced patrons. She was tired of having her ass pinched and her tips written out as “meet me in my room”.
She tried side jobs, formal interviews, even a stint as a bartender at a more prestigious joint. It never worked.
Lara was made to sling cheap booze in sticky holes in the wall. She was born to salvage societal trash, even if it was with alcohol.
She dreamed of turning them into something more. She longed to fix the broken things.
A pair of hazel eyes peered over the bar, down Lara’s shirt.
“Hey gorgeous …” Slurred words morphed into exotic sounds, like waves on an island or the calls of southern birds. “The wife left me. Be a doll and make me something strong.”
Those eyes, brimming with tears, brightened when Lara returned his gaze.
Her heart lightened. A new project. Broken but not shattered. Hopeful.
“Meet me in my room.” She scribbled on a stained napkin. “I can fix you up.”
My very flavorful wine inspired this rough 1st draft.
When I drink,
The demons come out to play.
I don’t know if you’ve ever had to roll with demons,
But let me just say,
They play in a little bit of a rough way.
They grab your mind with spiny hands,
And rip into your brain,
Tearing it and repairing it,
With spindly threads.
They shove their hands,
Deep into your soul,
Grabbing the layers,
Rearranging all the things,
You thought you knew,
All the truths,
No longer make sense,
You can’t tell if you’re remembering,
Or just making up stories as you go.
They tie your laces together,
And giggle as you trip through the door.
God knows they definitely don’t mind,
If you wanna take a drive.
They’ll GPS you to the nearest cliff,
Thelma and Louise style,
And shriek in glee the whole time.
You can try and lock yourself away,
Drink in peace,
But they can smell the alcohol.
They’ll sniff you out,
And set to teasing.