A bar in Gold Beach, OR. Best ocean view in town. The sunsets were amazing. The food was fresh and homemade. The owner was a hoot and my friend and I spent an evening enjoying her and her food.
Later, I would go back a couple of times by myself which was difficult for me. “Good” girls didn’t hang out in bars by themselves. BUT in Gold Beach, the bars had the best food. I wrote this poem one night in The Crow’s Nest. I sent it off and boom it was published immediately. I went back later and rewrote it.
It was an adventure I shared with my friend Cat.
The second version is an attempt at a sonnet, which amuses me considering the subject matter.
The Crow‘s Nest
The Crows Nest, where alcohol swirls in orbs
of glass. LSD colors, melting, dripping down
in angry laughter, creasing vinyl stools
that rip with bleach towels, applied over
years. Buck up boys, to bars where women play
the slots and Keno, speaking ’bout the butt
spanking and men chortle at spiders fist
sized, dangling from a boar’s head, mounted beside
the hanging TV playing a Blazers game.
Ocean tunes play outside the bar window
and grass smoke eddies ‘gainst windshields
of parked cars.