Skip The Smokey Ones

My hair was filled with smoke

Girls’ tits were popping out of tight shirts

Guy bartenders went topless

Feeding hungry boys

Down with tubing devices

Filled with beer

 

Blue shirt boy

Guzzles down beer

As OPP plays and the Beastie ones too

He drinks it all

And seconds later

He vomits his defeat onto the floor before him

And the bar that fed him

 

The pipe above smokey land

And the wall

Both covered in ladies’ bras

White, Green, Red, Pink, and Black

 

I see her across the room

Out of place

She stood

Beautiful, exquisite, wondered why she was here?

Or there?

Or why not here?

 

The college boys dressed the same

In their flannel shirts

And baseball caps

Working out to impress their mother’s fantasy

Not showing real paths

To women’s hearts

But only decoys of make believe

 

My hair

My jacket

My shirt

Still stink of their nicotine

And their lies

 

I approached for a change

Told her what I thought

The bar became quiet

In the loud dark atmosphere

Looking

 

We kissed

Intensely we exchanged

Our tongues

Intertwine

Uptown New York City

Grasping her young body

She holding mine

Beer on the floor

Hearts kept inside

 

We left to go elsewhere

To walk

We left the cover shop

The Identity crisis and identifiers

We walked away from it all

And entered the realm

Of neglect

 

Moses is homeless

With a neon Mets winter cap

New Reebok sneakers and squeaky clean hair

Makes the dreadlocks thicker and the rabbi’s leg hurt

The faggots are homophobic in this car

They aren’t letting go

 

She kissed me on the lips

The beauty left me there

Masturbating in the car alone

To the image of a magazine

I bought long ago

At the ripe age of thirteen

Thirteen car seats

And all I have left

Is my Eggbert

 

College boys

College girls

I missed it

I skipped it

To ride with you

And you left me

You bailed

You blew me

You wished me

And now you are gone

 

© 1999 David Greg Harth

99.02.28.01:15:19 @ Downtown 6 NYC

99.03.01.02:56:12 @ 296 NYC

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