Single

He enters and straight away

he smells the cheap perfume

and the cigarette smoke.

The broken dreams

and the sexual desperation.

The music is insanely loud,

the floor is a burial ground for

Marlboros, Winstons, Pall Malls and Camels

and the weak and the ugly are spewed out

before the final strike of the 2 AM gong.

He sits on a stool,

casually flicking the ashes of his smoke

on the used up carpet.

He drums his fingers on the counter,

pretending to like the song that’s playing,

even though he’s never heard it before

and actually hates it.

He sips his beer and once in a while looks around,

without looking around,

hoping to make eye contact with a woman

who could be might be should be

going home with him.

Then it’s time for everybody to be kicked out

and he stumbles on the sidewalk,

turning his collar up.

The flashing red of a street light

is reflected in a puddle of sick in the gutter

and he lights one last cigarette,

hoping The Amazon will step out

and leave with him.

But he drives home alone with himself

and, in his cold bed, all his hate and anger

squirts out into his fist

before he falls asleep and dreams of what

could be might be

Will be.

He enters and straight away

he smells the cheap perfume

and the cigarette smoke.

The broken dreams

and the sexual desperation.

The music is insanely loud,

the floor is a burial ground for

Marlboros, Winstons, Pall Malls and Camels

and the weak and the ugly are spewed out

before the final strike of the 2 AM gong.

He sits on a stool,

casually flicking the ashes of his smoke

on the used up carpet.

He drums his fingers on the counter,

pretending to like the song that’s playing,

even though he’s never heard it before

and actually hates it.

He sips his beer and once in a while looks around,

without looking around,

hoping to make eye contact with a woman

who could be might be should be

going home with him.

Then it’s time for everybody to be kicked out

and he stumbles on the sidewalk,

turning his collar up.

The flashing red of a street light

is reflected in a puddle of sick in the gutter

and he lights one last cigarette,

hoping The Amazon will step out

and leave with him.

But he drives home alone with himself

and, in his cold bed, all his hate and anger

squirts out into his fist

before he falls asleep and dreams of what

could be might be

Will be.