Cold air entered first
as the door opened wide,
the man coming in
brought in mist from outside.
For a moment he stared
after shutting the door.
No one had ever seen him before,
he seemed lost. He seemed tired.
He walked to the bar
and ordered a beer.
We, the girls, ignored him, him not being
from here and alone, from afar.
But an old man approached him,
and asked who he’d be.
He didn’t answer. He got his drink free
as the old man went on
with his questions of how
had he managed to get here
where no living soul came.
This put him a bit of his balance we saw.
“How do you mean?”
“We are dead, see.” And all of us nodded.
“So what is your name?”
He did not answer, but knocked over his stool
as he ran out the door straight under a car.
Who could he have been? And why was he here?
His glass remains on the end of the bar,
and is never removed. But dead is his beer.