Names, or Overheard Happy Hour Conversations

(Maybe if these poems included the name of the bar they could be part of the Don’t Miss This New York Guidebook, in verse)

The Hamilton 998 Amsterdam Avenue New York




I have a son.  It was the 60’s.

We were hippies and we wanted

him to be a king. So we named him

Raja.  Not Dweezel or Moon Unit.

Just Raja.  He hated his name

so when he could he  became Ronald.



Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.

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