John & Peters

Ralph’s locker is the cigarette machine

By the door.

All of these years

As soon as he walks in the place

He throws his coat on top

Next to the giant bowl of matches.

Even though

Cigs cost $7.00 here

The machine gets a lot of action

Throughout the night.

There is a constant

Reshuffling of bodies

As people squeeze by

To get a pack of smokes.

No change is given

So you better have

Seven singles.

You can still smoke in this tiny bar

As it’s grandfathered or something.

By the end of the night

My eyes feel as dry as sandpaper.

J&P’s is a real local scene

A shot and beer crowd

That parties hard.

It attracts us...

The no holds barred

Sophisticated unsavories...

The beautifully ugly...

The horny ones...

Those fearless

And politically incorrect...

The one’s that are having a hard time

Growing up.

I’ve known a few of the people here

Over the years

But have a hard time running the race with them.

I don’t get out much these days.

Hundreds of bands

Have rocked

The tinder frames

Under the hot can lights

At head level

Pouring kerosene sweat

Amongst us revellers

All within an extended arms length proximity.

John the owner

Is in his eighties

And ironically doesn’t drink.

He’s rarely here.

Peter died years ago

So there is some question

As to what will happen

To this place in the near future.

It’s tiny

The ceilings are low.

By today’s standards

I’m sure nothing is up to code.

But this place is a gem

Certainly historical

Culturally.

It’s the last man standing

In a quickly fading era

On Main Street

In New Hope, PA...

A time when

You could take a dream

And make it reality

Without all of the laws

And convention.

John And Peter’s is

Approaching 40 years

Of serving a community

Of misfits.

It’s a second home for many.

Raise a shot glass

To John and Peter’s

And then a bottle

And hope that it’s yours.