05: April 2015 #07 - How to Write a Bar Story
Authored by Susan Konz
How to Write a Bar Story
by Susan Konz
Don’t judge. Swim around other people’s murky water. Let yourself yellow fade and crisp with them, come down. I mean, go up first, way up because it hurts to say everything is so precious because, fuck, everything is so precious it pops live wire snaps at your tips; it frays your hair singes golden spheres cycling in champagne flutes, you down there, it hurts. Listen, come down, look at this guy, three divorces a Stoli rocks moth holes in his cardigan or her packing herself in ice with a book doesn’t need anyone – have a drink, have a few, roll that bite around, learn how why not tastes. Let him call you sweetheart, that’s your knee under his hand. Let him slide up your thigh high enough under the dirty oak lip of the bar you don’t feel it. This is your body, keep saying that. Develop a taste for ryes. Tell the truth then laugh. Let him take you home and when he’s asleep in the blue-blood dark pad through his house barefoot, touch his things softly. They exist. His maid will come remove your traces after, I tried to fuck her too he’ll tell you. Know what you are. All these lives. A jade jewelry box on the nightstand, a papier-mâché cube I love my daddy, a bent corkscrew, a gold watch, broken clasp. Hold them quick when no one sees, you’re nobody. Just listen, it happened, it’s real, you remember, it hurts, you’re nobody, pour thirteen shots, it’s important, let it all go fuzzy, you’re nobody – hold everything you see, palm it, it’s there, it’s precious, it’s so fucking precious somewhere between novelty and import like he says that Sunday morning coming in it’s going to be a long day, Sue, crack an egg in my beer.