TWELVE MEN

TWELVE MEN

Twelve men moved
their seats – grasping
beer mugs, wing sauce
dripping from their
fingers – left a sloppy
place to sit among
crumpled napkins

As they passed few
smiled, to more for
two, me and you.
Few smiled as they
wiped lips on shirts
left crumpled napkins
behind.

In front of me a view
of Lake George from
the deck at Duffy’s
where music from the
sixties kept playing
even he could sing.

Twelve men sat in front
of the band, received
two free pitchers of beer
that made them smile,
some others smiled.

I told my husband - we
will probably pay double
get less -
He told me, our wings
might be left over from
a previous customer -
a table with crumbled
napkins.

When wings arrived,
cold – when his sauce –
extra came – wings
were hard – we knew
why.

Two men of twelve
walked to our table
asked, shoulder to
shoulder
asked, “are you
drunk yet?”