Barfly: Woman In A Bar

a broken neon sign flashed Mel’s atop a small darkened bar on the edge of town the air heavy with stale smoke and beer blended faintly with the odor of dried spit on unclean bodies she sat at a small table alone pondering the world’s problems, two drinks past seeing beyond the unkempt nails on the chipped Formica in front of her the lines in her face were knit as if by a palsied hand dropping stitches where a pox scar decided to roost for her this was home, at least until tonight’s john with an empty glass and full libido swaggered up and invited her to the nearest no-tell motel life sucks but it was her life and feeling in control, a spider in her web, she threw back another drink and waited