At the Trail creek Tavern

At the Trail Creek Tavern

A row of Harleys line the hitching post-
tired horses this evening, road dust
settles on their black manes.
A hound sleeps and barks at the moon
from the cedar porch

The antique cooler, chock full of iced Budweiser’s
and frosted mugs, burbles along.
A bunch of loud bikers on the barstools
grisly and gregarious…
I order a mug from Orbie the barkeep

Loggers arrive like salmon on the spawn.
Janie jingles coins in the juke box
recollecting her innocent days as she
plays The Heartbreaker’s “Free Falling”.
Yes, she was innocent once.
Albert enters, inhales a beer quickly
and tells of the drowning on the river,
tells about the guide’s poor judgment.

The tavern is tumultuous. A cacophony
of roughnecks opening the pressure valve,
allowing steam to escape while the old hound
sleeps on the cedar porch and barks at the moon