Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #329

Words:  last, run, bar, fall, sail, case, afford, deep, nudge, puppet, assault, seat

Seated at scratched and scarred
wooden bar in Larry’s Lounge,
two old friends. One, gray-headed
wearing a faded blue ball cap,
the other, balding, clad in his
favorite fall shirt of forest green.
Raucous noise from a game of pool
in full sail, assaults the two, robbing them
of what hearing they retain.

Ball cap nudges his friend
as he speaks. Green shirt nods
his head up and down like a puppet.
Discussing latest case of
gentrification, paused on the brink
of forcing older residents out.
New housing  is not affordable
to these pensioners.

Larry runs from one end of the bar
to the other, sliding drinks. He stops
to commiserate with his oldest
customers. He knows
young people will not flock
to his bar, with its torn, striped
canopy, and neon flashing ‘Lounge’ 
missing the ‘o’. Blued night wears
on. The two friends deep in
melancholia and Maker’s Mark
are surprised when they hear,
‘Okay, last call. Last call.

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