Those Whiskey Boys

With sports and war on our tongues
we sat with our cheap light beer
and ideas of how government should be
in our skeezy little dive bar
home away from home
escape from home
when these young boys came in
early to mid-twenties
and we scoffed and snickered
when they ordered a couple of whiskeys
we had soft little quips
about how they'd choke down these drinks
in a futile effort to look like they belong here
and before long our thoughts were diverted to our simple attention once more
baseball and sex
and maybe a half hour or more had slipped by
when the smashing noise from the juke box recognised itself
as an obscure Rolling Stones song
paid to be played by only the most discriminating fans
and we called to the barmaid
to ask about those boys
and their drinks
as she answered, "seven.
Not counting the shots."