The stone face man
A Poem by Coyote Poetry
Everybody got a story. Some folks understand. No-one want to hear them anyway.
In old New Orleans 1993. I found a quiet bar. The music was playing low and the drinks were cheap.
I sat down near a old man staring at nothing and ordered a shot of Jack Daniel and a cold tapped beer.
I had my combat pay for going to war. I asked the man did he want a drink?
The man with the stone face didn’t answer for a minute. Silence was his friend.
Words had turn useless and he wanted to be left alone. The stone face man turn to
me and told me. “Soldier, I take the same that you got. Good whiskey and beer keep us
blinded for a minute.”
The bartender brought the drinks. We taps shot glasses…
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