I wish I had tits (when I go to the bar)
Because then I would be noticed.
Not confined to a corner
Staring abjectly, absentmindedly, at everyone else
laughing, smiling.
While I stand aimlessly
Shifting from one leg to the other.
Atleast I’m wearing a snap-button shirt.
I wish I had tits
Because then the bartender
would notice me there
with money
in hand
longing for some alcohol.
And he would come over quickly,
Smiling
On the verge of flirting
And then he would remember that he’s on the clock.
And serve me a drink.
But it would build my self esteem.
And I could brag to my two friends.
Instead I stand at the bar
Too short to be noticed
and tit-less
And without a beer in hand.
Mike Niemeyer
12/31/2010
Oh, Bukowski self-pity syndrome. When the bartender is a heterosexual female, tits may not be the thing she wants to be. Yes, my instructive advice will be seen as PC nonsense, but oh well. Try spreading semen on a napkin and telling the bartender that it is a cashforgold.com’s calling card calling them to give you a whiskey sour.