I sat inside Ruby’s Bar and Grill <br />facing the vast Atlantic <br />with the old guys <br />as the storm raged on <br />snow pummeling <br />the boardwalk <br />no seagulls in the sky <br />the pint of Thunderbird <br />empty <br />liquor store <br />a mile away <br />Ruby the owner <br />playing marathon Back <br />because the sounds soothed <br />his soul, <br />Suddenly I jumped up <br />and Joe Foley said, <br />“You’re a good man, Bernstein <br />getting us <br />another pint <br />in weather like this.” <br />I stared at Foley <br />eyes brimming with <br />with such profound hope <br />my heart melted in admiration. <br />Twenty minutes later <br />I returned with two pints, <br />one hidden in my back pocket <br />Bach still on <br />but louder than before. <br />We started sipping <br />well, swallowing really: <br />the first pint went fast <br />so I whipped out the second <br />Joe standing <br />proclaimed my name <br />Finally I moaned, <br />“I used to love Bach’s <br />Cello suites.” <br />“Is this gonna be about <br />Dentist Herman Swick? ” asked Elbert A. L’Hommedieu. <br />“The name’s Sicko.” <br />“The card you showed me said <br />Dentist Herman Swick.” <br />“Leave Bernstein, alone, ” said Joe Foley, <br />“the man’s a saint <br />close to it anyway.” <br />I smiled <br />went on: <br />“All he played was Suite number 1 <br />performed by Rostropovich <br />hence I heard those heavenly notes <br />time and time again <br />after three visits I hated Bach <br />yet all my life I loved his sublime joy <br />and just because that Sicko <br />played it over and over <br />while the infernal drill <br />penetrated the soft tissues of <br />my cerebellum.” <br /> “Enamel, ” said Elbert A. L’Hommedieu. <br />.“Always the brain, ” I moaned, <br />“always the brain— <br />with me.”<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-sad-disaster-worthy-to-be-buried-in-profound-s/
