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Member or Guest
I slid to the door
where I was met by rickety steps
going downward. I don't know what to expect.
The Italian Club of an old mine town?
Is this safe?
Am I an authorized member?
A guest?
I clung to my beer
tighter with each descent.
Causing more stale smelling piss to splash and splutter.
I attempted to drink
before lowering to the next
mischevious platform!
I don't want to lose the beer.
I was going to need it after all
if I was going to find my way through this labyrinth. [trap of Daedalus]
As the steps take a right
I think of the beer tap.
"It must not have been cleaned in months. Maybe years!
Is that something floating at the bottom of my glass?"
I can detect the must and the mold.
Hear the clicking of a pilot
to some make shift heater.
In the other room I hear voices.
Laughter, yelling, cheering, violence perhaps.
They all blended into a hideous beautiful din.
I want to turn back now.
This noise has got my nerves.
"Perhaps a refill on this beer?
But that would make me a rude guest.
Or am I a member?"
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