Nightmare
He dreamed of being deep in the well
up to his lips covered by the brackish
water haunting, vindictively rising
steadily, uninterruptedly when, ready
to drown, he woke up sweating,
frightened, alone as he was alone
in his world for all his life the old
beer parlor waiter, a life spent
in alcohol stink, dirty breathing, angst,
few dollars in tips, stagnant air
heavy on his chest and in his nose, sweat,
uncleanliness, sloppy etiquette,
fashionable, trendy baseball hats
the old waiter recalls the area
of Jukebox where he always found
loose change on the dirty carpet
his patrons spent their
monthly welfare cheque in a few
days and nights of stupor, drinking,
pissing, vomiting, living the high life
of this country where he came and
as a bandit with the syndrome of
getting and running fast he collected
discarded coins, dirty looks, piss and
curse allotted to him out of drunken,
foul-smelling mouths, desiring only
alcohol the waiter served with gusto
since he knew his patrons, mostly regular
drunkards, familiar faces inebriated
from early morning to late night,
he served them all, he cheated them all
each time the opportunity allowed
a glass of cheap beer for a buck, those
were the good days, a man with a twenty
could be drunk from dawn to dusk and
more, he knew them well, his patrons,
wealthy for two or three days of each
month when the welfare office mailed
them their share of the Canadian wealth
Libros Libertad 