reflection

here's a poem that took me 20 years to finish

in the bar

machine overhead
somewhere in this cave
pushes dry heat

impossible to smell
the fossils
just two stools down

nothing but the blue fog
of american spirit
marlboro red and drum

throw more dark
down my throat
before the cold leaves

somewhere, this place we used to go all the time
automatically
pouring ourselves flowing downhill

spitting taps welcome us with foam and promise

nothing ever really happens here
just fossils fingering yesterday's prints
staring into the last points of light

there are no ears here
only smashing hands
bottles explode in a can

in the corner

petals of glass raise a hummock
every flower fades

the machines near the back door
suck change
burn, wail, sing in return

beer sweats beside me on sticky glass
bright reflections
catch each other peeking

i'm nearer the end of the bar than i would like to be

there are no hands
for this love no gesture
to mark completion

warped cue sticks
wait for chalk and pinballs
race across a psychedelic table

hide from bumpers
fight gravity
inevitably get stuck.



--jul 2012