Dave Bonta's "Low bar" is a short, clipped poem that seems to start in a dive bar and drift somewhere darker. The opening line sets the tone: a drink "stiff as any prejudice" is strong, but the comparison also makes it hard and unforgiving. The speaker then admits the drink is "better for me than a head full of intrigue." Drinking, in other words, is the lesser evil. It quiets a mind that is busy with scheming, suspicion, or overthinking.
"Having it to go" gives the scene a restless, rootless feel, as if the speaker can't even stay put long enough to sit down. Then the last line turns: "serving the tomb is an art." The phrase could point to a bartender serving a place that feels like a grave, or to the speaker serving something dead or deadening. Judging by the wording, the title also puns on the "low bar" of both a bar and low expectations. The mood is wry, tired, and a little bleak, with dark humor running underneath.