#bartendress

"The great-great-grandfather, a big lover of Chardonnay and lobsters, Came here on the steamboat a long time ago, A big boss of a family full of uncles and nephews. He founded Lancaster Bank and Trust That proudly stood on the outskirts of Houston. The outskirts turned out to be the center. The proud bank turned out to be modest. The granddad turned out to be not as lucky As his daring ancestor. He survived The bankruptcy however With the whole lot Of his brothers, uncles, and nephews. Only one cousin, the family legend says, Was so depressed that he committed defenestration Throwing himself out the twenty-sixth floor Of a family building But it is believed he was easily frightened,"

Announces the loud girl bartendress, Extremely, in fact, loud, Half of the bar can hear her. She sighs and adds:

"I'm thirty-two, and pretty much done With parties and drinking. I don't like Houston, But it's not Houston, It's me. I attend school— Community college. Next year I'm going to study at the University of Houston; They have grants, you know."

She rearranges the glasses and bottles, And then again she is thunderously loud:

"On the next street you still can see (Right here, the next turn) The brick building Pretty much lost between these new mirrors That pass themselves off as buildings. It has on its wall The worn-out letters That form the modest and proud name: Lancaster."