The Price of a Little Life

What’s the price of a little life
Of that girl behind the bar at night?
A shaker in her small hands light,
She spins to pour your "friend" a drink.

What’s the price of another life —
A student who sat close just for effect?
Your life moves like a film on reels,
And at the bar your order is direct.

You look at her — there’s sadness in her eyes.
Not yours, but hers — her burning, lonely gaze.
She is so humble, like at work she stands,
Behind the bar, in a uniform daze.

You wanted to ask why she felt sad,
A joke, perhaps, your voice a bit too warm.
But the girl next to you laid down her hand,
Her skinny arm upon your shoulder’s form.

You break your thoughts, you turn to her,
You’re not surprised by her fake smile's light.
You drop your eyes, you just ignore her —
You’re used to women of that kind and type.

You look at her — there’s sadness in her eyes.
Not yours, but hers — her burning, lonely gaze.
She is so humble, like at work she stands,
Behind the bar, in a uniform daze.

Sometimes you wonder: why go with friends?
You knew the night would pass like always then.
They came to hunt for bodies to spend,
And you? To leave your past behind again.

You stand up, smile at that young face,
Leave a hundred dollars by the bar to stay.
A sting inside your side, a bitter taste,
You whisper to her ear: «Hey, don’t be blue.»

A week goes by — you see her at the store,
She’s buying medicine for her small son.
We live now in the twenty;first century,
You look her up, and soon the search is done.

You write to her with no great hope:
«I’m glad I saw you there the other day.»
She won’t be shocked — she knows the scope,
Dozens of drunk men write her in that way.

But you just ask: «How is your little boy?»
Was that the reason why you felt so blue?
She says: «Why care about a boy,
You shouldn’t know,» but she was wrong, you knew.

A month goes by — a book inside your hand,
You read him tales at night, instead of her.
You close the door — your “little one” now rests,
She kisses softly, without any stir.

But you are glad — the house feels whole,
At home a family waits for you each day.
On Fridays now you’re no more lonely,
That former barmaid now is yours to stay.