Three Fingers

Your strongest whiskey

Neat, three fingers no chaser

With a fifty in hand, the bartender doesn’t hesitate

He places it in front of me

I reach for it and drop the cash

Before the bartender can pick up the money

I shoot the whiskey and pound the glass

The bartender takes the cash, the glass and pours another

Again he places it in front of me

I stare at it for a minute

He returns with the change

I shoot it again

It hits the spot

Place the glass on the change

I say nothing to anyone as I walk out the bar

Sometimes you just need a drink

No questions asked

No small talk

Just the whiskey, please

Segundo Juan Devora