Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

She always spoke as if
She had the monopoly
On tragedy as if tragedy
Never poked its finger

Into other people’s lives
Or crept into their souls
And sometimes she would
Drink with the old girls in

The bars the ones with the
Scars the bruises the old
Whores the ones whose
Old men beat them black

And blue and who muttered
Their tragedies over their
Booze laden glasses and
Spoke through smoke of

Cigarettes their eyes dull
Dead eyes like fish out of
Water their mouths moving
The words like bats in flight

And she sat and yakked and
Bemoaned her life and the
Men who’d let her down or
Fucked her silly or bruised

Her like soft fruit and the
Old women sat and listened
With the look of boredom
The look that said been there

Done that got the tee shirt
Got the scars got the memories
Like old films playing at midnight
And still she moaned on drinking

From the lipstick stained glass
Unaware that the men along the
Bar sat and dreamed about her ass.

Hey Dadio-

great stuff...reminds me of a few barmaids I knew from way back when.

Regards,


ed

Thank you, Ed.

excellent.....a vivid bar room, with portraits of the patronage that feel real to someone that has made a visit or two........

thank you, saw.