First Call

Usually We are dreading the tender giving his last call. Today We are waiting for it to be late enough to buy the alcohol.
Empty soul staring at slowly ticking clock. Circling the bar like a kid riding around the neighborhood block.
No beer to be served to wash away our pain. Waisting time like a beach day flooded with rain.
12:30 the bartender promises, the drinks will be in our hands. Living in the Bible Belt is challenging... its life in the Christian southern lands.
The clock strikes on the half hour, and bottles begin to clank. Liquor starts flowing and our dollars leave the bank.
Day drinking at its best we will be drinking buddies forever. Bonded by beer and waiting on time a relationship that cannot be severed.