Standing around wrecking cages
in all kinds of places
counting slowly how the money pours out
at the corner of some bar
sitting alone on another inebriated excursion
in the company of nobody
crowded by bobbing head strangers
who weave and wade through the bar stool jungle
I’ve spread my cards on the floor, under the table
and I can’t read the future, though I try
as a one man band plays a disconsolate number
under ukulele lights, crooning at the girls
And I ask, where are all of my friends
the neals and allens, the konnegut wino and joe
Did they lose themselves in this flickering
dark neon paradise?
The troubadour beats the beat with the soles of his shoes
as I behold his folkloric deeds
the gospel of wealth –the noblesse oblige
While here, in my corner freezing
everything red red red
in the musical mist
taking in the staring dark beauty of song
seeking familiar faces, trying to grace a glimpse
of the eyes that placed me in this stasis
I have no more drinks to share
the sparkling wine is dead
and the yeast in my beer had found new life,
As the midnight clock struck through holy time
following up to a divine moment of truth
with each minute passing
Clarity fades in all the empty glasses
and the distance to the door can be measured in stumbles
Eyes closed the chatter drowns to mumbling whispers,
the senses feel an elevation in altitude
while memories turn into voids and wormholes
later to be filled in by strangers with questionable intent
procuring an ad-lib life
I can’t fake it baby
the case is what it is
So I’ll wait in this corner busting my chops
’til weekend comes ’round
Helsinki Poet 