CORKY the bartender drops a pint glass
onto the floor and it crashes
in the hollow space it echoes
off polystyrene swordfish, between empty booths,
past new old fashioned sports memorabilia,
and abandoned karaoke stage

It is Friday and no one
seems grateful anymore.

Just then Corky straightens up
pours his self a beer realizing
$700 billion will pay
for a helluva lot of jalapeño poppers.