Ride Through

Ride through
time of day, not
a stop and see time.

That bar looks
as old-man bar
as any I have seen.

Maybe once
a biker place. Never
have seen one there.

As curious as I am
I will never go in.
It’s on my way home

but too far from home
for a quick stop. If I stopped I know
I would stay long enough to die

driving back on Route 190,
Route 2, Route 290, heading home —
I would one day not get there.

Whoever this is now 
in here is not that old man
just when I fit the part at last.

I could nurse whiskies 
a whole late afternoon 
and evening in there.

I would be unmemorable
but later someone watching
the local news would ask the bartender,

“wasn’t that the guy?”
and the bartender would say,
“Yeah, maybe. Never saw him

before a week or two ago. Pity —
seemed ok. Just quiet.  Didn’t say
much. Seemed to have

stuff on his mind.”
I would have had stuff
on my mind. I always

have stuff on my mind
which is why I don’t stop
at the Paddock Lounge

on my way home.
I make it my faith
to stay away. It’s always

ride through time, never
stop in for a quick one time. 
I used to be that guy. Even

if I still am I don’t want him
out in public. I know him,
I know what would happen.