Noir

I do remember knocking around in this
Banged-up suburb of Baltimore, or was
It Philadelphia? These neighborhoods
All are the same: the overloaded two-
Lane roads, the endless strips of little
Stores, apartments looming from
Behind, and modest houses, purchased
New by people who still lived in them,
Some seven decades on. It seemed
The sun always was hidden. Leaves
Had fallen from the trees. The
Streets were wet. Into the gloom,
My ex-best friend, a drunk, named
John, would drive us to a liquor store
To buy another jug of gin, and then
We'd get some Chinese food to take
Out. We'd go home, and eat and drink
Until we couldn't see. John's moved
Again. I don't know where. He's in
AA, and seems to think it's best to
Stay away from me. He may be
Right. I'm here alone, but otherwise,
It doesn't seem that things have
Changed. I drive myself, and
Knock around in search of gin
And Chinese food to bring into
My motel room. I'll sit down
At its little table, eat and drink,
And, while I still can see, I'll
Reminisce.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 57 times
Written on 2016-02-12 at 14:39

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