Killing me the rest of the way

For Al Purdy

the bar is closing
the doors locked
the bartender was cashing out
the waitress with big pancake breasts counting tips
the barroom cleaner putting chairs on tables
the end of another labour-pool work week
I sit finishing off a mug of beer
empty mugs in front of me
I stare into the mirror behind the bar
long tangled cement-dust hair
hardened tortured hands
hard hat
work gloves
pouch
hammer
nails scattered out onto the bar
a week of digging holes
jack-hammering 4 storeys underground
I look across the deserted bar
“Drink up, Joe. Hell is closed.”
laughing out the side of his mouth
Killing me the rest of the way.