I was sadder
than a belly up
gold fish floating
in a bowl
on a ten year old
girls dresser
next to an empty
hamster cage.
Over green-eyed
girls, and 80's T.V.
starlets out West.
Over barefoot
beauties cooking
spaghetti and a
wine tipping chick
from a hippy church
with a little boy
who seemed
my own.
Set up by a broad
that ran a gypsy
bistro we had
started to chat.
Here's the deal,
she said
I danced for
thirteen years
Relief or
something like
it washed
over me and
I smiled
a crooked grin.
Hell I was
married to a
hooker.
After letting
our guards down
we talked of
silly things,
and drank deeply-
drunk on
the hope of
better days.
We shared melancholy
and music,
Mrs. Beasley and
Mr. French.
God knows she was
older than the girls
from before but
just as beautiful.
She was beautifully sad,
and I wanted to love her.
