The Drummer was not as kind to the preacher
shot him mid-jig
thinks one rhythm works for all songs
In San Francisco there is gold.
In San Francisco there is stripped copper wire.
In San Francisco ship masts litter the bay Goblins call, chatter and unload boats
mangoes, green nail polish, knives.
bars served stale chips or raisins
beer from bread
@ the Westin Hotel and Cabaret
an Official joined them
for a crease of yellow foil
told them new stories.
Sam knew in beer there would be truth.
There was no elegant solution
the Official admitted
they sent me out here right before.
Goblins? The girl asked.
the Official grimaced,
a practiced gesture
a Goblin can be anyone different.
But you, the Official looked at the girl
I’ve heard about you.
They all flocked to get close
a mermaid singing each to each
she sang to them.
The crowd chanted
knowing she could break open their world
Howling through the night
on the corner of Columbus and Fillmore
jugs of wine passed through the crowd
The Drummer sidled up to Sam
she’s going to need a name
important for her act
the Drummer fixed on the girl
The battered hat,
the ragged edges of her pink tutu thin as a memory
the girl looked better – eyes shining
I’ll tell you about the great mother –
you sit on her skin
you need to caress her more often
here is the story of the three-hour cruise
how many of us start –
believing we have only three hours
and it turns into
the girl lifted her hands –
a natural gesture –
the crowd roars.
she welcomes tribute in size 8 shoes
I know how it ends.
Sam patted the Drummer’s arm
turning to the exit sign
the EX burned out
I never thought
I’d see how it begins.
The final chapter of Drinks @ the Last Cafe.!
You can get a complimentary copy of the entire poem by leaving a helpful review for my new book, Deep Trouble
or for After I’m Buried Alive.
Notify me when you’ve posted the review – cbramkamp (at) gmail (dot) com and I will send you the ebook version along with my sincere thanks.