Two out of three ain’t bad.


A Long Island Iced Tea in the traditional high...

A Long Island Iced Tea in the traditional highball glass it should be served in. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Two out of three ain’t bad.

A Poem by Coyote Poetry

"

Lonely are the people who wasted love and friendship.

"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two out of three ain’t bad.

I was sitting alone
in a Austin tavern in 1996.
Drinking long Island ice teas.
Trying to get blinded.

A old man dressed poorly
ordered a water.
Bartender gave him a bad look and
walked away.
I told the bartender.

“Give the old man what he wants.”

 

The old man smiled.

 

Told the bartender.

 

“Same as my new friend.”

He drank the Long Island ice tea
quickly.
I ordered him another.
He thanks me.
Asked me.  “Was I alright?”

I told him.
“Not
too good.
But I will be fine.”

He
touched my back.
Told me.
“You got two out of
three.
Better then most of us.”

He
looked outside to the cold rainy night.
Told
me.
“All three are hard to hold on to.
You
got the booze. Number one.
You still got the road. Number two.
You still
got a lot of living left.”

“The third one ain’t
so easy.
Love cost a lot.”

I bought another round.
He
raised the Long Island.
Make a cheer to life.
“To the road.
To
better days.
To good booze and wine.
To sweet
woman lost on the road.”

He smiled and told
me “I was successful once.
I had the big
house.
The beautiful wife waiting for
me.”

“I choose the booze.
I loved the road
too much.
Now I sitting with you.
Alone and
wishing I held on tighter.”

I looked into his
sad eyes.
Asked him. “What was really
important?”

He smiled.
Told me to
order him a double shot of whiskey.
I ordered the whiskey.
He drank in down quickly.

He whispers “Hold
on, tightly and be thankful.
If you find the sweet woman.
Who loved
you.
Hold on.
Nothing as sad as a old man dying
alone.”

I left him.
Gave him a few
dollars.
Thanks him for the advice.

I
learn two out of three isn’t so good.
Need someone to
love and care for you.

Before it is too
late.

Coyote

3
July 1996