Belief System; My Brother's Bar After A Show by Lori Romero

Belief System

The lady at the door asked if I believed in God,

I told her honestly, I’m only searching for a breather,

a respite from judgment, although relief is not something

that comes easy to anyone these days what with viruses

dragging us to the curb like 30-year-old Serta mattresses,

I’m not looking for a garden of bliss -- I’d settle for a single stem

with promise. You see, it’s hard to kneel with rocks in your lungs

and a drill buzzing the back of your head.

I really want to drink dark rum all day

just to define the edge of dread

with its leaf mold and fungus rot instead of staring

at cheap apartment walls in need of paint. I could say grace

was a woman who found herself

on E County Rd. 16 during a snowstorm

saved by the lights on a semitruck,

but priorities were different then.

My Brother’s Bar After a Show

Friday late, Jim’s behind the bar

and Angelo’s in the kitchen

tomorrow night they’ll switch

slinging greasy johnny burgers

wrapped in paper to catch the juice

serving a caddy of pickles, onions,

and jalapenos to make it a mile high

lining the counter with sweating beers

and mountains of foam

a wild west saloon

except the speakers crank

strains of Beethoven and Bach

for hunched-over buckaroos

so, this is what’s known: Neal Cassidy

may still have a small bill run up

according to a letter by the bathrooms

in the back and the artist rehearses

saying goodbye in the mirror

save Sundays when the joint’s closed