Gillian Swain # 8 - Years of dedication

Is a pub still a place where
a grown man can cry?
The Brylcreem type
from another era

with schooners and short whiskeys
silver hair  deep mute wrinkles 
would sit  condensation 
sliding down the glass like shiny regret

exposes lines of clarity in it's wake.
Nicotine stains on first knuckles
the profit after years of
dedication and rollies.

He'd read the curls of smoke
that told all 
his secrets back to him
over and over  curl twist curl vanish

Cry into your beer  wipe 
the froth off your nose 
and get on with it
That's the way we get things done 'round here.