illing Time
I do my work in the sleazy bars.
I observe the decay. I make
notes in my compact book.
The pages are unlined.
I’m waiting for a
melody that will
sail into my
head and
take me
away
from
this ghetto.
Molly behind
the bar is holding
back her tears. Charlene’s
out in the tables, she’s been
there for years. There’s a neon
sign opposite me that says “magic”,
right now I’m not sure what that means.
Molly leans over the greasy bar counter and
asks me, “Are you a baby?” She might be right.
I should learn a new language, that would be the
best way to escape me. Outside on the pavement a
man with one leg scrapes a cigarette up from the gutter.
I watch him looking up at the moon but she pretends she
can’t see him. Now Molly behind the bar is on her thirteenth
cigarette. All of these working girls are dying so very slowly. Fading
from glory. And everything I write tonight is merely a ruse to
deafen the blues that you left when you left me. Molly
behind the bar lights up cigarette fourteen, glances
at me and she smiles but the look in her eyes
gives it away, she’s slowly dying. I wonder
if she sees that same look in mine.
Well whatever, I’m sitting here in
Saul’s Burger Saloon quietly
killing this beer. Soon I’ll
kill another. That might
help me forget that
you left me.
And I still don’t know why you left.
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