A cunning glance across the board;
The dance of light
of heart and sequined soul;
The white dress and
the card that flutters;
The soar of
vocal chords;
And yet I hug the ground,
Yet somehow in mercy
I hear another sound
See another light,
Another crowd.
The D string snaps,
and the bass bass -- mellow --
rumbles
and there's eardrums buzzin'
in the ears of the swankers,
the flappers, the soldiers and singers,
the card sharks and bouncers and
poets and dreamers,
Here where the tomato juice flows
And the laughter is easy.
And the piano rises,
And the lights are dimmed
And lonely souls
sip drinks in dark corners.
Candles and souls alike
Are sputtering out.
I tip the last dregs
And a nostalgic refrain
Wakes me
As if from a slumber as long
As tabs and faces.
And I awake
To you,
And the sight
Is warm like the hot sauce from the drink
Still burning in my mouth.
No, not like that,
More like
Frosted sunsets
And pine wood crackling away
And being close to someone you love.
Now the lights are down
Roullette wheel stops
And that same nostalgic song
Drifts through my mind
Like the smoke of the last candle.
2 comments:
Nice, Josh! I love the "pinewood crackling and frosted sunsets" imagery. And the reference to tomato juice, lol. I think you fulfilled your role as a 1920s poet.
Is that the poem you wrote after too much tomato juice, Josh? If so, maybe you should drink tomato juice more often! Great poem-- I especially liked the part about the hot sauce. :)
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