at diamond lil's in idaho city

at diamond lil's in idaho city

the first sip

of kentucky bourbon,

bites before it soothes

the heavy glass sits on the bar

where antique currency under varathane,

shows buffalos and indian chiefs.

a five dollar silver certificate entitled:

"electricity as the dominant force in the world"

depicts a winged goddess holding aloft a light bulb

red christmas tree lights

frame the potions behind the bar,

a warm enveloping womb

the regulars on their stools

watch the seahawks fight the titans

with the sound turned off

a wurlitzer jukebox,

with robotic CD guts

delivers sixties songs 

softly bouncing off the walls

of faded photographs: gold miners

posed in front of the water cannons

they used to wash away the hills.

or in their best sunday black

for a fourth of july parade and picnic.

dollar bills with sharpie-marked inscriptions

dangle from the ceiling, rustle in the door breeze

beer signs for vanished brews,

rusty license plates, strange implements,

a john wayne quick draw movie poster

a urinal filled with ice melts beneath hot piss

and pictures of naked women

stapled to the wall

the football game goes on, 

the rolling stones roll on

the conversation turns

to squatters rights in costa rica

where the bartender spends his winters

and the lady sipping amber ale

has a plot of land

with a thousand mahogany saplings.

they agree that she should look for him

at the taco joint in hako this february.

he plays dominos there daily

from noon til three

guy with a ponytail

sticking out of his baseball cap

orders a shot of ice cold jagermeister,

says it's the only shot  that he can hold

the seahawks whip the titans as night enfolds

the bar, the courthouse, the ice cream shop

the toy store, the catholic church,

the men in camo standing around

their harleys and their four by fours

grousing about the president

and the world they fear

they've lost.