The 1000 oaks

A long weekend at work is over

And its nine, it’s a Friday night

The music I enjoy by the door

Am I dreaming, or just feeling light?

“Welcome again sir”, the routine smile

He gives me a seat, asks for order

The men I see walking by the aisle

Women beside make the air warmer.

 

“Make it the color of fresh peach

For the lady, a sex on the beach

One pitcher, the best you can make

Not like the face you often fake”

The music I enjoy with my lady

It’s not very dark, just a bit shady

Country rock is on the list tonight

Showing the great American might.

 

I drink not for me, not for love and peace

I drink not for the smiles and sorrows

It leaves me dead, it leaves me silent.

 

Its past nine, it’s a Friday night

I just drink to this unending plight

Of families left behind, of kids orphaned

Of the sons lost or left handicapped

They reverberate a revolution in me

I care for them and the same does she

But within myself I go deep inside,

And whenever I peep, I step aside.

 

Where I come to live, I may die too

My steps just walk till the nearest loo

I read the alphabets on the window pane

“You must come out and buy again”

Now I just come to live here folks,

I admire the splendor, I love the essence

By the table of The Thousand Oaks.

Disclaimer: The name 1000oaks is derived from the name of a lounge bar in Pune. There is no similarity between the description in this poem and the actual place.