With heavy eyelids I am still in love with the high-ass girl who dances fast and smooth through heavy smoke. And the music is still drunk and thick with beer stains in it. Meat-packers on the weekend are desperately dancing with switchblades in back pockets. Nothing changes. The darkness still moves under the tables and along the walls, where I hide my suffering and my lust for the girl at the next table. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AUGUST FIRST by HAYDEN CARRUTH FLOWER GUIDANCE by ROBERT FROST OUR CAMP; IN THE AUTUMN WOODS by ROBERT FROST |