Midnight on the Strip

We walk, awkward, down the slippery sidewalk.
You know how it goes. So newly met, we're
Wholly awkward. “How's the weather where
You're from?” “Are you with someone; on
Your own?” Unasked go the greater questions.
“Do you see a future for us, once we've left
This gilded land where liquor both obscures
And bares, and we, without it, lose our
Luster?” “Dressed in duller daily clothes
And occupied by occupations, could we
Stumble ever onward, awkward, still, but
Happy, as it seems that we are now?”



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 61 times
Written on 2014-03-01 at 01:48

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