See his face clear as day but can’t remember his name a recovering alcoholic Vietnam Vet I hung out with the year my daughter was born. I was 21 back then.The last bar he got kicked out of, the Palace, was where I stopped around 11 on my way home just for the nostalgia. Had a shot of Jameson and a Coors. Talked to the bartender about the cigarette machine that still works but takes too many quarters now to use and Red. That old dog should have been dead 20 years ago but he’s too mean. Ninety years old now and still hitting the same bar at the same time every day. I used to hate that fucker. Now my friend whose name escapes me was never here long enough for anyone to know. Just me. Funny how I’m drifting through these ghost towns conjuring up the memories of people I knew however briefly but still feel. Wondering if anyone touching my shoulder now will be a fond memory 30 years from now. Why can’t I feel them like that now. Chuck that was his name. Where are you Chuck?
