The Bar …
My sister has owned it for about 10 years …
I always come here for the holidays
But right now it’s summer
And there are a good thirty people inside…I haven’t seen Jo since after Laura died…
She’s probably going to be mad at me…
I walk inside
And sit at the piano,underneath the Paris lights picture
Jo is working the bar
I sit and watch
She seems happy
Or maybe just busy
Content
Or just occupied ….
(How do you feel?
I look at the rows of books on the shelf,the brown carpet,the brown chairs,I wonder if he’s read every single book,is that something a psychiatrist has to do?. Or is it just a thing that they have in their rooms so we look at them…
“So tell me about Laura, what was she like?”
” I really,really don’t want to talk about Laura…can we talk about something else?” )
I leave Jo and the bar and decide to go back to my place
It’s a lot easier
A lot easier than facing Jo right now
And easy
Is,well, preferable
To so many things
And that’s something that I need
Regarding Samuel 