Chicago Bar Story*

I like you.
You got intensity my friend.
This guy I don’t know so much about.
He wears a ball shirt.
Don’t wear no fuckin’ ball shirt.
What’s your shirt say, what is that?
Baltimore Orioles?
Don’t wear no Baltimore shirt.
Wear a Cubs shirt.
You look like you’re fucking twelve years old.
I like your shirt.
The Who, who the fuck are you, right?
You got nice teeth.
He’s a got nice smile, don’t he?
Get a beer, a light beer.
Did I stutter, did I fuckin’ stutter?
Get a fuckin’ light beer.
Guinness, huh?
I like your class.
I like you.
I don’t know so much about this guy.
He smiles too much.
I just wanna let you know, when shit goes down, the Quinnster’s gotcha back.
You wanna make $500?
I was a ringer.
Do you know what the fuck that is?
A fuckin’ ringer?
I like you.
You square go?
I’ll take anyone in this bar.
See that guy?
I’m gonna cut that guy with a fuckin’ switchblade.
You Ohio boys, you smoke pot?
Fuckin’ roll me one then.
Yeah that’s right, roll me a pinner.
I like you.
You got intensity, my friend.
Remember, when shit goes down, Quinnster’s gotcha back.
I’m a mover
I’m in the Union
I make $35 an hour
Hard work in this town
I was Golden Gloves
See that, rock hard
I’m gonna cut you with a switchblade
You got intensity
You gonna get the pussy with that
I like you.

*This poem was an assignment from a Poetry class I took in college: write in the voice of another. It is about a man I met in a Chicago dive about a year ago. Many stories linger about this conversation with Rich Quinn, or the Quinnster, as he became known. At some point later this month, I'll try to put together a thorough retelling of that tale. Stay tuned!