The One About A Door

     Nobody likes getting a second job, let's just face it. It's never something we jump at the chance to do, but we have to do it sometimes. There was a period in my life where it was a necessity for me, and I found a security/bar back position at a bar, only about 10 minutes from where I was living at the time. 

     From there, standing just outside the entrance, I learned all I ever needed to know about both side of the bar industry. I worked with some of the finest people I have ever met, but I also was witness to some of the more depraved actions of individuals I will eventually forget about. 

     Again, this is no dig on the industry, or anyone in it.

     But, I think anyone in it will agree, there are definitely 2 sides to the coin. 

     Speaking of two, this one is a 2-parter. I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for reading. 

The Doorman Saga

Tires crunch across the gravel

Speckled with bits of glass.

Throwing back moonlight as it

Drifts in and out of winter’s clouds

Far off thumps rattle away inside

A haze of red lingers at the windows edge

As moths flutter around my spotlight

Yet here I stand. Waiting.

I am the doorman.

You know me, I know you

Yet we are strangers to one another.

Desires misaligned and unmet

Animosity temporarily non-existent.

You get your glasses filled

Brimming with bubbling goodness.

Sometimes they wind up back to me

Residue waiting to be erased, again

You retire outback, nestled at your table

Arm wrapped around tonight’s companion

Still alone, I return up front

Re-emerging in my mothy spotlight.

I am the doorman.

Fifteen more of your look-a-likes

File right past me, flashing grins

Making a beeline for excitement

Slung cold across an oak slab

Music rages down into my molars

As companions become tender lovers

Wallflowers become cheerleaders

And small talk becomes an epic for the ages.

I am the doorman.

The final call comes, somehow surprising

As you clutch that last glass.

Nonsense and slurs echo forever

Somehow, you make your way to the exit.

I send you back into darkness

Bidding you a fond farewell

Remnants of our time are swept away

And my memory of you is cloudy

I am the doorman.

Good night.

--And now, for the other side--

Tires squeal onto the asphalt

Riddled with rain puddles

Catching your headlights

And drowning in storm clouds

Shrieking guitar roars past the door

The red light flickers from its glass pane

Even moths have abandoned me

Yet here I stand. Waiting

I am the doorman.

I see you, and you might see me

Yet I am not on your radar.

Gazes hopelessly avoiding each other,

Both for no good reason.

Bottles come cold, and cheap

Bubbling with mediocre dreams

Most wind up staying with you

Armed and ready to hurl, again

You retreat to the pavement outside

Pulling out the first cigarette of many

Still alone, I return up front

Face assaulted by my failing spotlight.

I am the doorman.

Sixteen more useless strangers

Breeze on past me cracking jokes

Making mad dashes for distraction

Served half-ass in smudged glasses

Music bounces off my skull

As friends become angry politicians

Gentlemen become scoundrels

And chit chat becomes just more slurred nonsense

I am the doorman.

The final call comes, thank Christ

As you clutch your new weapon

Rage and perversion taking hold

You lunge at your new neighbor’s throat

I hurl you back to the darkness

Waving to you on the paddy wagon

Remnants of our time are ruined

And my memory of you is stained

I am the doorman.

Fuck you.

Stefan Adcock, 2019