Where Nobody Knows Your Name

I crossed from Boston Common to the pub
on Beacon Street. A barstool, banter, beers
awaited me, for I was bound for "Cheers",
the suds-and-suckers landmark of The Hub.

But this was not remotely as I'd hoped.
So small and squat and square, and antiseptic!
A couple from Des Moines, and one dyspeptic
waitress in the "chow shack", neatly-roped.

The silence made me feel I'd interloped.
Six bucks a beer. As I morosely moped,
the woman I'd come all this way to see
(so blonde, so buxom, with such perfect skin)
was far too occupied to lunch with me.
Facades are only there to draw you in.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I enjoyed the good description. Create place and I like the way you described the people. Sometime being invisible allowed us to digest the location. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Arezzo]

I'm really grateful to you for these positive and helpful remarks. Thank you!

[Coyote Poetry]

Was my pleasure and you are welcome.

[Relic]

I've been drawn in so many times its embarrassing. The chow shack? That sounds awfully romantic. haha There's some good humor in this and a lesson to boot. Glad I read this. ha

[Arezzo]

Thank you very much! I'm delighted that you liked the humor. Sometimes I think I'd rather be thought of as funny than as a good poet!

I appreciate your generous remarks, and intend to reciprocate.

[Relic]

You're welcome my friend. :)