i don't like lunches

i don't like the lunches. i don't talk about them when i don't have to.

i like the evenings. i talk about them when i can.

one of the reasons i like evenings, which i will now refer to as the bar because we both understand that i when i say the bar i am not talking about lunches because i don't talk about them when i don't have to, is charlie.

charlie has proud white hair with proud streaks of varying greys that he sometimes keeps under a hat with which he brings sexy back. he wears a long coat and a dark scarf. he would remind me of humphrey bogart if bogey was irish, a patron of my bar and, most importantly, alive.

a barman seldom has the opportunity to have conversations with the barpeople. that's just the nature of the job, a job of soundbites. quick, smart, snappy comments to keep them interested in me long enough to buy another round and to keep them interested in each other until i return to recharge the drinks.

not really charlie though, but about them in general. in fact, that isn't charlie at all.

charlie is the one who has the quick, smart, snappy comments that keep me going while i work the room until i return to him so he can recharge me. he loves to accent his clever remarks with a tilt of his head, a naturally rehearsed wink and a smirk that knows something more.

a woman named ruth comes in to the bar with charlie. she has a glass of wine while charlie drinks his gin and slim line tonic because it's a healthy choice. it is because he has proud white hair with some varying greys that hold my tongue and think to myself that a glass of a drink that is soft is a healthy choice.

but he drinks his drink that is not soft and entertains me while i entertain others and he gives a tilt and a wink and a knowledgeable smirk while i enjoy the evening because i enjoy being quick and smart and snappy.