Jeffrey Tamayo

Standing StrongThe stool creaks as I fidget around.
My right leg violently bouncing on the weakened foothold. The wood desperately held onto the leg of the stool with multiple nails poorly hammered in.
A single nailhead sticks out ready to attach itself to a pant leg and drop the next soul. I hope I do not forget when I stand and become its victim.The bubbles atop my beer slowly have slowly popped for over an hour
as the bartender cleans the inside of a glass.
He stares at my beer hopeful I take another sip.
His eyes look desperate almost as if his creation has gone to shit. I've insulted him without a single word.
I understand.The words I type or write or speak -
disregarded as nonsense and not of poetry. Who am I to call this art? Who am I to disrespect this man who crafted such an elegant pour? Who am I to judge this wooden stool that has felt such abuse from people like me?
Just another nail and it'll hold.
Just another beer and I will drown my sorrow.
Just another poem and I can get the fuck out of this shit hole
only to be back
tomorrow.03/05/2025