Dark Street

 
dark street, a welcomed sight
too many sour mash's
too many memories to hide
darkness your god
darkness your salvation
nighttime easy to get lost in
looking for . . . something
anything to blur reality
going from bar to bar
looking for that link
that tangible link
but only find
people more desperate than you

clip-joints
watered-down booze
Miss America thirty years ago
sidles up
perches on stool beside you
smiles that enchanting smile of years ago
gone now
what remains is ghastly
pathetic
and so very sad

allows her leg to lean into yours
asking for a drink
in lust-honored way
barmaid walks by shaking her head
at two lonely people
searching for humanity
wherever it can be found
though almost broke you spring for that drink
trembling she brings it to her mouth
says thank you
rests a liver-spotted hand
on your thigh

her plight you begin to understand
worse than yours
dead lovers
long lost husbands
crowd her thoughts
still looking for Mr. Right
so there she sits
offering herself to a stranger
for a few drinks
some drunken sociability
deluding herself you are an OK guy
you could be a psychopath
maybe she secretly hopes you are
maybe she has found the cure to her blues
death by you
you never thought of something like that
but . . .
as you watch the former Miss America
desperately searching for a way out of her misery
you turn to her
"Wanna come with me?"
she nods her head
looks at you with dead eyes
knowing eyes
she leaves with you anyway