noir desolate

serenity in amber. a shot glass full of it.
it’s not much, but it gets me through this cold, rainy
night. this lonely night, that hangs outside my window
like an old movie. I can hear a mellow trumpet wailin’
the blues while the credits roll.

and the usual suspect stares back at me from somewhere
beyond that window. it’s a woman; it’s always a woman. a
chorus line of soft lips & hard hearts. curvy figures with crossed
legs perched on bar stools that run from here to the plastic palm.

vamps that enticed me with a well practiced hip swivel, then
did a slam dance on my surrendered heart. so I glue the pieces
back together & return to my drinking. and my writing.

when the bad memories fade, I am back in line with the other
jokers, spending my quarters on a peep show that stars a rhinestone
ragdoll who will maybe share a cup of coffee with me after her shift.
we dance a little, we love a little. we gaze at the moon like it was
propped up there just for us. till we realize the moon’s a balloon &
when it pops, she’s spinning on a chrome pole in another state & I’m
back to my amber persuasion.

too many rivers under too many bridges
there is no light at the end of the tunnel
and I don’t dream anymore –

I love you baby, but if you walk away

I won’t chase you…