I wish I could go into the little armpit of a bar down the block from me more often because I really like it there, and because they have a lot of different kinds of beer you can take out as six packs, but it’s almost all men who drink in there and it’s embarrassing. When you come in you open the door right on the bar itself—it’s just a little taproom—and all the men sitting there swing their big dog heads toward the door and look at you. Look, lift, look, sip, look. Look, look, look while I talk to the bartender—who is thankfully usually a woman—make a joke, fish around in my bag for my wallet, pull out the bills What did you say? Oh, yeah, it is beautiful out, I love this time of year, take care, have a good one, thank you, take my big crinkly brown sack in my arms and turn to go back out into the bright day. An eternity.