at the pub...on one wet evening...

The evening was wet
It was drizzling, and if it drizzles on the first week of October...
And if you're in a pub with bottles of potions sparkling...
You must get into the act of drinking smooth honey!

That was what exactly he was doing,
Sitting on the high stool, near the bar tender's counter,
Admiring each and every subtle movements of the tender's hands...
How she mixed one potion with another with perfect ease...
How she shook the lemon chips and soda and coriander leaves in steel shiny shakers
As her whole body gyrated...

He sat there, looking at the potions on display...of different hues...
White, black, orange, red, green, brown, blue...
He noticed how the water drops made maps of unknown continents on the glass panes...
He noticed how three coated honchos argue and altercate, drunk...
He noted down the sad eyes of that woman sitting at one corner
With a colorless potion lying idle...

At the pub...
One wet wet evening...
He, noted everything...the people...society...competition...love won and lost...
At the pub...


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