At the bar, all the bottles gleam, so bright,
Joe is behind the counter, it's Friday night.
He's higher than a kite, feeling quite bizarre,
Mixing drinks while pondering life and its quests,
He eyes the beer taps like they're stars from afar,
And spins a cocktail shaker, the crowd feels his zest.
“What’ll it be?” he asks, with a grin that won’t quit,
“A martini? A mojito? Or something that hits?”
Regulars chuckle, they know what to expect,
For Joe's pouring spirits with a twinkle and flair,
But today he’s a little, well, past the aspect,
Counting the olives like he’s making a prayer.
He dreams up a drink, calls it the “Cloud Nine,”
With five types of rum, some pineapple fine,
And a splash of some soda he forgot he had.
“The secret’s the garnish!” he shouts with delight,
As he juggles the fruit, oh, a sight to be had,
One orange rolls off; the crowd squeals with fright.
“A highball!” cries Linda, “Just make it on time!”
But Joe’s now convinced he’s a masterful mime,
He pours and he spins, like a whirling dervish,
Ice flies through the air, in a snowy ballet,
The customers laugh, find the chaos to nourish,
While Joe stands in awe, like a child on display.
“Just one more!” he laughs, “Before my shift ends!”
As the clock strikes the hour, the chaos transcends,
He mixes a drink that could fuel a small rocket,
While they chant for a cocktail they’ll never forget.
Joe nods and he winks, watches all the fun socket,
Then trips on a spill, spills a drink, oh, what a bet!
But as the night wanes and he takes a deep sigh,
He knows in his heart he’s the bar’s favorite guy,
With a smile so wide, he bids all a farewell,
“Next time I’ll bring brownies, to keep the vibes tight!”
So off goes dear Joe, through the last drink’s sweet swell,
A high-flying bartender, in laughter, all right!
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
