Weekly Sip: Last Call

The final sip and the full collection.

Jun 07, 2024

Song Recommendation “Piano Man” Billy Joel

Drink Pairing: Glass of champagne

The night before I published my first post on Substack my stomach was in knots. Equal parts anxiety and excitement, I took a shot of courage like it was tequila and opened The Oasis. Inspired by a little bar in Gardner, Kansas called BJ’s Oasis, decades of imagining what went on inside that little dive on Main Street came to life via poetry.

Welcome to The Oasis started as a few poems I wrote in college. After studying with a poetry mentor for three semesters, I had several pieces stitching together to create a broader storyline. Knowing that The Oasis had more secrets to share, a few years ago I began work on a companion novel based on the same characters. As the open sign turns to closed at my poem pub, I’ll continue working on the book. A teaser chapter will find its way to your inbox soon.

To celebrate the poetry collection, pour a glass of cheap champagne, flavored wine, or whatever spirit feels best. Tommy, inspired by the longtime bartender at BJ’s Oasis, Frankie, leads us out the door. After this final sip, the collection in its entirety follows.

Cheers, friends. Keep dreaming.

xo,
Heidi

Tommy’s Last Call

Sweeping up ashes
From a day turned to night
He wipes down martini glasses
Clicks off neon lights

Billy Joel sings from the jukebox
Tommy’s mouth curves into a smile
“I know that it’s me, they’ve been coming to see
to forget about life for a while”

He pulls the tie from his hair
Imagines standing onstage
Dances in circles with a broom
The handle he serenades

He sings la di da
The empty bar a safe space
“Well I’m sure that I could be a movie star,
if I could get out of this place”

Two stepping toward the register
He counts down his drawer
Grabs a stash from the tip jar
Eyes closed, the crowd roars

Tomorrow, toasts and troubles
Tonight, a spotlight
“We’re all in the mood for a melody,
and you’ve got us feeling alright”

Another night in The Oasis
Another night in the dream
So many souls dance in and out
So many possibilities it seems

Welcome to The Oasis
A Collection of Poetry
By Heidi Darby

Slip into The Oasis

Tucked away on Main,
stands a quaint little dive bar;
proud and deserving.

The front stays open.
Most prefer going ‘round back.
The private entry.

Welcome. Come in and,
slip into The Oasis.
A drink awaits you.

Poem from Barstool #7

Time dances slowly
As I caress the rim

The rocks look lonely
They cry out for their gin

My tumbler rests weary
On a damp bed of cotton

Assistance I need clearly
For my worries to be forgotten

I plead to you for a glance
An attentive gaze from afar

I beg you for one last chance
To fulfill my quest at this bar

Now give me a fucking sip
Before you lose your goddam tip

4:36 p.m.

Slipped out of work and into The Oasis.
Intoxication is surely the basis.
My endeavor is clear;
God, I really need a beer.
And by the way, I’m feeling quite salacious.

Tom, Dick, and Harry

Thrice the trouble
walking in the blue doors
Tom, Dick,
and Harry.

Quick to complain
about light handed pours,
Tom, Dick,
and Harry.

Jokes they do tell
of Heaven and Hell,
of current events and their races.

They hold up their beer,
or whiskey and cheer,
"God bless The Oasis!" grins on their faces.

Quarter past six,
mirror check and a mint for
Tom, Dick,
and Harry.

On the drive home
the wife's on the phone,
no mention of The Oasis from
Tom, Dick,
or Harry.

11:11 p.m.

Slipped out of the bar,
and into my car.
Reverse, brake, drive.
God, let me make it home alive.
At least I don’t live that far.

Tommy’s Drive to the Dive

Out the house, the screen door
smacks. Into the Nova he rises in bursts,
skin scalded on black vinyl.

Backing down the drive,
gravel pops, crunches. Onto 66,
steam rises from the two lane highway.

Churches; picket fences
Churches; picket fences

Hay bales curl tight
upon waves of grain. Windmills
turn proud against a blue sky.

A combine works, sour
notes carry on the breeze.
He reaches, turns up Patsy Cline.

Cornstalks; trenches
Cornstalks; trenches

66 breaks, scenery blends
from country to town. He slows
on Main, parks in the alley.

Tying a bandanna over black ringlets,
he steps in the back door, walks behind the bar,
ready to assist in the escape from

Cornstalks; trenches
Churches; picket fences

Who’s Next?

Girls clamor, aching for a look
from a small town legend,
known for leaving ladies shook

His lack of a lady, deemed malicious;
dimples and swagger
beyond delicious

Desires high, hands on hips
Pushing up mama’s gold,
they lick their lips

The only way to truly capture the bartender’s love?
Raise your hand and shake a twenty high above.

Good Time Charlie

Nothin’ like a wild and crazy night.
One'a those you never forget.
Goin to the place that loves,
that never turns you down.
Get a big cold beer,
light up a smoke,
have a bit
of co-
caine.

Circles turn hazy, 'round and 'round me.
Through layers of smoke and music
I light up a girlies cig,
buy an old pal a beer.
We cheers to this night,
never should end.
I'm happy
for now,
see?

Tommy cuts me off way too early.
With a quick smile I let it slide.
I wave slowly to my friends,
step out the back and go.
The rain kisses me.
Welcoming the
company
I head
home.

Nobody ever pays attention
to all the secrets people keep.
Another night flyin’ high.
Going up, coming down.
One more cold battle
with the morning.
Loneliness
calls me
here.

The Wait

The sky hangs low, gray and heavy.
Sheets barely off the line,
she looks over her shoulder and
carries the basket to the back door.

"Daylight’s ‘bout gone. No matter anyhow,
with the clouds as they are."
She brushes silky hair from her
tense mouth. Inside she checks the clock.

Worry was usually saved for after dark
but tonight, tonight the sun escapes early.

Static light flashes through the window.
one...two...three...
A bellow rumbles through her chest.

"Lord, I felt that one."

Wind ruffles
the curtains
by the front door.

She steals a glance down the driveway.
No sign still. She walks to the
stovetop, chicken threatening
to burn. "Potata's dryin’ out too."

Another glance outside through
the unruly willow strands
reveals only gravel and
looming storm.

Clock reads later now. She paces
back to the stove, returns the lids
home.

Fatigue cascades up her arm
as she reaches toward the lip of the stove light
and pulls a pack, withdraws a friend.

Setting the potatoes back
one burner, she lights the
end of her stick.

Wind ruffles
the curtains
by the back door.

Stepping outside, once more,
she takes a seat. Slow exhale, slow smoke.
She worries, thinks of him.

"Nothin’ more than a mirage in the desert these days."

The pregnant, dark clouds lays thick;
the air speaks of fried chicken and summer.

She puffs her smoke delicately.
Finally, the rain comes
home.

Mariella

Heartland sunset bleeds
into dusky night. The witching hour
for blue collar plight.

Tucked on Main Street
behind closed doors, whiskey drenched secrets
settle into cracks on the floor.

Through ribbons of smoke
music plays. Tiny waitress hums along
with Elton John, she picks up her tray.

Delicate hands balance vices
with country grace. Barflys often remind her
she’s too good for this place.

Cue balls click, cadence
for her steps. Crooked smile
hides pain unkempt.

Corners are dark and deep
in small town bars; the past a fingerprint,
impossible to see but never far.

Stains on Her Skirt

Crooked smile.
Sexy laugh.

A tad naughty.
Hearts beat fast.

Her hips twirl, elbows rest.
Jean skirt swaggers right to left.

Cigarettes lit.
Lies unfold.

Low cut crop top.
Lies gets old.

Old boyfriends steal glances.
What’s wrong with second chances?

Eyes on fire.
Lips to match.

Broken glasses.
Tall beer backs.

Small towns take you so far.
I’ll slip into a parked car.

Break time’s over.
Checks are paid.

Whispers echo.
Legends made.

Rumors often travel.
Out come the scowls and gavels.

Small towns are heartbreakers, you know.

Green Eyed Monster

In a moment of unrest
A lover’s confidence sways
When jealousy masquerades as jest

Wandering eyes are daggers at best
Banter leads to heartache leads to pain
In a moment of unrest

Tempers run hot, put to the test
Manipulation, a game to play
Strategizing what move is next

Feeling envious, possessed
Nasty words spit into the fray
In a moment of unrest

Silver tongued threats met with protest
The inevitable underway
A night spiraling into distress

Walking out blue doors, love betrays
Losses quickly cut, on to better prey
Just remember, in a moment of unrest
Jealousy can masquerade as jest

Beauty Queen 7:38 p.m.

On her way to the city
she test runs black stilettos
at a crack in the floor.

Not a strand out of place
eyes painted with expensive confidence
defying less is more.

Every step forward
swings a bare shoulder
flirtatiously back.

Entertaining the afterwork crowd
she saunters across the floor
a celebrity on the track.

Back arched elegantly
slender neck turning chin
she rests her skirt on the barstool.

Knees closed, ankles crossed
she rests her elbow on the bar
in total control.

Cherry sin
glides over pursed lips
a wink to the bartender.

A gin and tonic for the road
a gin and tonic for preparedness
an awkward thought to render.

Elisabeth Mae

"Whore"
She grumbles
and takes her turn at the table

"Marty!"
She nudges
He takes his eyes away from her

"Damn"
She misses
8 ball goes in prematurely

"Beer"
She gestures
And calmly picks up her pack

"Light?"
She inquires
Men don't hear a sound

"Typical"
She exhales
They fail to see her once again

Beauty Queen 1:47 a.m.

She walks back into the bar
Hair strewn, lips pursed

She pulls lightly
At her creeping skirt

She mellows herself
Orders her gin

She politely asks him
To hold the tonic this time

She crumbles just in time
To find the barstool

And quickly wipes away
Dry tears from her eyes

The men they all stand up
Announce they can get up

"This lovely Miss Lady,
has surely lost her way"

But she knows immediately
Where she can feel safe now

She knows where she'll always
Be loved and adored

She takes down her hair now
No mistake can she make

For she now, allows herself
To fully come out

To fulfill all their doubt
And become his devout

In the back seat

Toast for an Angel

For you, my love
I’ll always raise a glass
A toast to an angel (or demon)
Unsure which of the two best suits you

I’ll always raise a glass (to my lips)
When discerning if we’re lovers or friends
Unsure which of the two best suits you
Who’s the cat? Who’s the mouse?

When discerning if we’re lovers or friends
The circle spins into oblivion
(I ask again) Who’s the cat? Who’s the mouse?
Contemplation overwrought

The circle spins into oblivion
For you, my love (my curse)
Contemplation overthought
A toast to a demon

Red

I.
Pea soup skies pour over brittle plains.
The gray beards and worn overalls in town
anticipated from the smell; cut grass
mixed with humid breeze. The scent
soothes me, makes me think of you.

II.
Just like clockwork the creek
begins to flood. Moonlight Road
closes. The same beards and overalls
curse the impending detour. Remember
when we ditched fifth period and
smoked cigarettes on the bridge?

III.
Still raining. Winds picked up again.
Branches and scattered trash
parade in the rising creek.
A soggy Micky Mouse waves to me
from the water. People must think I’m crazy,
standing out here in the rain.

IV.
Stopped by The Oasis today.
Ordered your favorite drink and
listened to the thunder exert its
authority. I could almost see your face,
your long hair, green eyes across from me.

V.
Folks talk loudly of the ‘93 flood,
how, “This storm ain’t nuthin.”
Funny how they get, so fired up.
Don’t worry, everything’s too waterlogged
to catch a spark.

VI.
The sun whispered secrets
over the county this morning.
The warm winds and clear skies
were welcome. From time to time,
I still miss you.

Tommy’s Toast

Raise your glasses,
raise ‘em high!
For love, for luck,
for time gone by!

Raise your glasses,
raise ‘em high!
Toss one back,
and feel alive!

Porcelain

Knock
Knock

on the door
"One minute more"
time to collect

Flush
Flush

down the drain
all the pain
get it out

Splash
Splash

feel the cold
this gets old
time to leave

Turn
Push

out the door
to the floor
"One more please!"

Passerby

Talk to me, before the fantasy fades
And my impulse flees
Before my eyes focus to see
What sensibility trades
When a subtle look becomes a gaze
And reason careens
Talk to me

An encounter dreamed: Bodies in melodic praise
In a moment set free
A willing lapse in reality
Consequence estranged
Talk to me

Alana II

Splintered steps under feet
onto the sidewalk, concrete

The road to salvation
the princess leaves the park

Wifebeater hugging breasts
jean shorts swagger right to left

Rectangle box, back pocket
on fire in the dark

Pushing blue doors open
"One good song tonight" she's hoping

"What's this sweet thing doin' here?"
first of many whispered remarks

Chiseled cheekbones dusted
deep green eyes bright, adjusted

Another night of cue balls and smoke,
she's careful among the sharks

A dollar here, two there,
”Nearly enough to escape from here”

Never anyone’s baby,
she’ll leave this town in a trail of sparks

Bad Habits

Smoke envelops him
Ember burns paper
Fat lips blow

Every breath a drag
Plump palms slick with sweat
Gold necklaces limp in a black forest

Beady eyes linger
Hovering thigh high
An incinerator of imagined satin

He inquires to his left, “Care to tame some demons?”
She replies, “Some demons are better left in hell.”

Laugh grunt emerges
Yellow teeth exposed
Eyes scan for prey

Butt hits ashes
Flame lights another
Fat lips blow

Smoke envelops him

Quarrel

Lights turned off, eyes closed
Undercurrents of doubt in my head
Fish hooks pinning me to the bed
Sinking into more what ifs than I can stand
Resolution a starfish stranded on the sand
Lost in a quarrel I’ve yet to comprehend
Eyes closed

Carried away in barrels of thought
My love for you, forever red
Drowning in words better left unsaid
Straining for a switch that can’t be sought
Eyes closed

Elise’s Lament

Standing quiet in a cemetery
Hands in pockets like when we were girls
The scent of your cigarettes still carries
Fingers wrap around your second hand pearls

Late nights, white lies; secrets only we can keep
Blue eyes, bar flys; I always knew you’d leave

Never felt you were extraordinary
Shine like yours was often pegged as crazy
Always thought you rather ordinary
Standing next to you was never easy

Cold hands, small feet; knew when to let me be
Wild heart, big dreams; you meant the world to me

Last fight we had was unnecessary
Searing words that haunt me damn near daily
Heartbreak is so very hard to bury
Pardon me while I search for bravery

Short breaths, clenched teeth; I miss you terribly
Long sigh, release; I miss you endlessly

Standing quiet in a cemetery
Hands in pockets like when we were girls

Amen

Jesus finds me
inside a whiskey bottle

While the sun creeps
in the morning sky

Hallelujahs
in the dew

Sunday sermon
on a hillside

My fingers wrap
round the neck of my Bible

Peace comes to me
Peace in belief

Twilight noises
lullabies in disguise

Hymns from the Earth
Hymns from the trees