decline

Decline
The owner of my bar died
his widow opened windows wide
and life flooded in; sun light
in my corner of happy misery.
My glass of brandy paled in a flash
of naked light.
I escaped to the bar`s loo,
but the cleaners were there
smelling disinfectant and soap.

There was nothing for it, but to face
the outside where the sky is molten lava
dripping heat.
Black dressed preachers of doom,
at last another bar, a twilight zone
with blinking neon light.

Shield me from the brutal day to a place
where men don`t turn their head
when someone enters, but spend their time
following an echo of a dream
they once had.
I`m safe here and tomorrows will never come,
as I sail in on the sea
of make belief