This Round Is On Me, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

I was in a run
In a frenzied scurry
Trying to avoid bears
That could potentially eat me

I ended up on rice
Translucent as jellyfish
Salmon swimming upstream
This round is on me

I could be in the Meadowlands
Rooting for the Giants or Jets
And maybe at a baseball game
City Field rooting on the Mets

I could be at an office party
Everyone smiling and jolly
While they sit on the copying machine
Bet you think that is funny

I could be at a beach resort
Surrounded by tiki torches
Hula dancers shaking hips
This round is on me

One evening my friend and I
Ended up at Bennigans
We ordered our usual drinks
And this is what happened

Two more drinks
Landed at our table
We were a bit confused
Because these we didn’t order

The waiter pointed across the bar
To a man sitting alone
“These are on him”, the waiter said
He had bought us another round

We smiled and waved
But I couldn’t let it go
I went over to his table
To thank him for the round

I invited him to sit with us
After what he did for us
“Come over to our table”
I didn’t sense his trouble

He collected his jacket
His keys, his glass
Redirected the waiter
To the new table, his order

Initial common banter
“What is your name
What do you do?
Nice to meet you”

His balloon became barren
Our shot glasses like goldfish
Went down with our gulping
The next round was on us

His wit withered slowly
His smile he had initially
Slithered out of our booth
Though his body never left

Swirling his near empty glass
Raised his hand like a kid in class
To get the waiter’s attention
He wanted it filled again

What was he filling it with
Where did the other guy go
His shoulders now slumped
His head bowed in sorrow

“What is wrong?”
Our voiced of concern
Hesitant he said
“I don’t want to talk about it”

But we couldn’t help it
We wanted to know
How he could go from 80mph
To dead stop zero

It turned out to be his father
Retired cop turned investor
Made tons of money
He lavished on his son

“You have everything”
We said, “You should be happy”
I patted him on the back
But that didn’t seem to help

“You don’t get it”, he responded
His eyes swelled with tears
“I could be standing right next to him
But a million miles a way it feels”

I could be in a stadium
I could be at a party
I could be with dozens of people
And still feel isolated and lonely

The rivulets
Spidered down his face
Dried up over his red flush face
He wiped his tears, took a deep breath

Sighed and resigned
At almost closing time
Last call had arrived, he said
“This round is on me”.
(end)

This is about a real encounter with a guy at a bar back in the 90s who bought a round for everyone at the bar. We invited him to our table, and at first he was cheery but that slowly melted away and it came out that he was depressed that he couldn’t have a close relationship with his father the way he wanted. His father’s idea of love was giving money and material things to him, but this guy wanted a deeper relationship with his dad, one with sensitivity and listening and understanding and companionship.

The first two stanzas are me feeling my own want of escape away from work and stress and wanting to escape the rat race like a salmon wanting not to be sushi or be caught in the bear jaws of life.

The rest of the stanzas are about him, but also having that feeling of isolation even in big crowds like at sporting events are backyard parties. I wrote this poem originally a few years ago.

“His balloon became barren” , “balloon” is a type of bar glass that you would put say a brandy or wine in.