I walked into greasy spoons,
My friends behind counters
Cheering warm in the dark
And endless cups of coffee
His history with me forgiven not forgotten.
Outside the drunkard wailed Tom Waits
I saw a woman, a vampire version of herself
An endless parade of used bandages and condom wrappers
Ancestral memories of places I've never been The smell of older types of bombing
Through that door another dimension
Here we're flushed and smiling
Worn tile, fresh paint means
More than any diamonds
More than any praise
i especially like "ancestral memories of places i've never been"...i can relate to that i think :)
ReplyDeleteGreat Poem.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautifully written Jesse - I love the Tom Waits imagery...and the slow move to the last few lines.
ReplyDeleteThanks :) I might publish one day.
ReplyDelete