The perfect corner bar,
a perfect place to sit back
to kick our feet up
and loose the shoes,
listening to voodoo sing
it's charms and invocations
from an electric guitar amp.
The perfect circle--
hands held with strangers
as the bright lights dim,
electric freedom singing
while everyone watches
the stage for her next trick
her next dance, next song.
Perfect circle, perfect corner
perfect burnished wood
perfect cigarrette burns
perfect drinks, perfect laughs
everything was like that;
real and a little impossible,
only a dream--in your face.
Last call is light years
into the future's haze.
Open the door and look out
at the new-born universe.
In the windows by the corner
an open sign glows--perfect.
Non-stop neon lights burn.
and the sunrise only means
it's a new morning.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
.jpg)
28 comments:
clink! Open twenty-four seven and eleven....
I knew you were there twirling
the candystriped straw
in your drink
scribbling on damp napkins
sonnets
and ballads
and bar room legacies...
I saw the open sign,
glowing,
and heard it tinking
on and off,
in rhythem with the music,
and the traffic ligh
fluorescent ghosts
clinking
it' just like that.
The house--rocking
the door--no knockin', it' open.
People fly in the door
kids break out the fake id's
and no cop will ever bust up
this party--it goes all night
have another drink with me
Clink!
Monday through Friday
barflies
and cinderella
are lined up in the alley
waiting on yellow cabs,
morning is
only a moment away
at midnight
Peace~love my sweet friend, I'm off to catch a ride home with the designated driver......
I hope you don't mind if I spend our dimes....
oh hell, I never could leave the bar the first time I said goodnight!
clink!
Me neither, but you gotta do what you gotta do.
This is a nice quiet place. We could camp out under the tables.
Is there rooms for rent on the second floor of this place?
And the cabdriver knows it,
he smokes another cigarette
and smiles
listens to talk
radio in the dusty
turn around...
You don't think he'll keep the meter running while we build a second story do you?
We can set him free
Buterflys and cabbies
they are everywhere
look; here comes another
lets get last call
part two.
Mine's on ice,
she's always puts 'em
there
snug
and crunched
in cold
between
the cheap champagne
and the lemonlimes
and no matter how many
last calls
there's still one
cowboy hangin'
waitin'
for me to change my mind.
Part two
I ordered my favorite
A lemon drop
dounced in sugar
lemon set on fire;
everyone yells 'ooopah!"
you yell O-lay!
And the ladies
are still
stalling
leaning on
your coat tails
the padded vinyl bar
waiting for you
to read
their palms
or pen a song
for the band to play
so they can call
it
dedication
And I'll laugh and
raise my bottle high
to their smiles
and giddy selves
and never tell
them otherwise
that you write this way
in traffic
and on Mondays as well as Fridays
and sober as well
as now
dressed
in last call
and all its hoo-hah
I checked my pockets
lined in dimes
and we have to leave them for Patty,
a token of goodwill,
so would you mind very terribly
letting the cabbie know...
We're spent again
and we'll be walking home...
look at you go.
We are
the spirits of poetry.
We are
the ghosts of the words.
Good peoms/bad poems,
it's all good
after we clink!
And the bartender
locks us in
for the night.
And the bartender knows us well!
They;ll make up stories you know,
how we played darts with lemon drops
and
giggled and wrote on the bathroom
walls
and stood on the stage
and pretended to be....
janis and jimi
at the corner bar....
she knows us so well
you could say
she's us
and we are her
the bottles are endless
and the night is finite
things work out
when hippies
tip with lots of dimes
and a bottle cap painted
with a butterfly
the name of the bar
bottlecaps and bars
it's our kinda place
where butterflies and hippies and poets are free
and everything else
is a dime
How we wrote
"who loves ya"
On the bathroom stall
door
how we carved
smiles
in the lemons
placing them carefully
in the fridge, looking out
They'll laugh
and we'll know.
Everything will follow
simon says
do the hokey-pokey
as the grand piano
plays one last song
guitar solos waiting
in the wings.
People are gonna wonder at this place! That's for sure.
Clinks will still echo into next week!
And tomorrow when they
open
and the neon sign
is blinded by the Thursday sun,
the little green jack-o-lanterns
grinning in the cooler
and the peace sign lipsticked on the mirror
will tattle tale on us....
and we'll laugh
and do it all again
clink!
Because friday nights
are for dancing
drinking,
clinking
singing,
shouting
poetisizing
and doing everything
our way
at our bar
That's the way
it was meant to be.
clink!
And that's the way it was meant to be.....
Wanna walk me home?
sure will. The night's a bright one with one million stars.
The moon will follow us. You'll see.
k....let's go....
Peace and love.
thank you for walkin' me home, the cabbie circled twice, flashed his lights goodnight....
And I know he was smilin'....
Post a Comment