Captured in a cloud of smoke,
Were the amplified many sounds…
Patrons talking over the jukebox,
While ordering new rounds.
You often heard girls screaming,
When jealous boyfriends picked a fight
You can spot the drunken losers
Under the pool table for the night.
I heard the tired waitress,
Screaming “One last call”…
The music, fights, the flirting,
It is hard to hear it all.
Cliques of longtime old friends
Raising fists for loyalty..
Downing shots until they vomit
Up their long-lost dignity.
I discovered among the distractions,
A sound I’d not heeded before…
It was the dings, the opens and closings
Of the busy cash register’s drawer.
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