SandScript 2020

Danny’s Baboquivari
Misha Tentser
POETRY
dusty carpet floors
and deer skulls on the walls
I lean against the worn wooden bar—
a perfect stranger, melting into
the surroundings like a Dali painting
anonymous by way
of being unremarkable
a face, a place, a mood
I take a shot and a beer
drink quietly while absorbing
the madness all around—
the dancing, the yelling, the ruckus
brings me peace
to see the people releasing
all that they were told
all of those words dissipating
like puffs of smoke
I think of Siddhartha
sat underneath a tree
in meditation and reflection—
could this noise be my tree?
this soundtrack of working people
blowing off steam
the solo bartender says to me,
thank you for your patience
unaware that for me,
time has twisted and contorted
beyond recognition
for I could sit here twenty years
feeding off this racket
subsisting on liquor and beer
until my liver failed
and the rest of my body
sunk into this bar stool
becoming one with
this place I call
a piece of home
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