“Indeed”–a Bambino’s poem

New words are forthcoming, friends, but for now here’s an old poem you might not have read. It’s one of my favorites, and it has been well-received. I know a lot of you who have been reading for a while, but maybe some of the newer readers will like it. Be well.


Bambino’s Clubhouse is my favorite bar of all time, which is sad since it has been closed down for more than a decade. My friend Carlos and his dad, Bambi–short for Bambino of course–opened the Clubhouse in the spring of 1999, and it was our bar. I have never come close to being in a situation like that with any other bar. It was just a party bar for us guys, and there were a lot of us, and we liked to party. I could tell you stories, crazy stories, and you might take something from them, but you really just had to be there.

Those of us who were there have the stories though, and we love each other for having lived through it all. Some of my greatest friendships are with the men who made it through that madness with me, and as sad and tortured as periods of that time were for all of us occasionally, the memories of it are beautiful because we made it through together.

We’re older and mended now, the ones of us who can mend, but every one of use will tell you, despite all the grief, it was a magical thing to be a part of.

I wrote a lot of poetry in Bambino’s, and “Indeed” is one of my favorites. It’s the one that tells the reader who we were. It doesn’t tell the reader how great we were, however, because it didn’t feel at the time as if we were great.

Still, and I’ve got some dudes who will back me up on this, we were.





Battling the battles of bottle and pipe

On this warrior-strewn battlefield, night after night.

Wishing and hoping the world would stand still

While battling these battles of habit and will.

Fighting the fight of the victims, despite

Being taught in our youths the wrong from the right.

Remembering a time when we did what we liked

And fighting the fight of the pissed off, tonight.

Praying the prayers of the praying ones we’d be

If to prayer we were prone…to prayer prone, indeed.

These are we; this is the bar’s face this eve,

Battling, fighting, and praying, indeed.




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