The Waits Land

You can hear it read here

They were playing juke joint music,

there were bottles on the bar,

the decor was chrome and leather

like the trim in a rocket-finned car.

The lights went up to dismal

on a pole-dancing stage,

through all that time and make-up

I couldn’t guess your age.

The emcee’s nylon toupée

was the best joke that he had,

his off-the-peg tuxedo

looked several kinds of bad.

I waited by the restroom

‘til you gave the secret wink,

and I paid thirteen dollars

for a sugarwater drink.

You told me about Ruby,

who you knew from Sante Fe,

she married William Fenster,

a player, back in the day.

I said I had a meeting,

I really had to go,

you smiled and smudged your lipstick

and whistled sweet and low.

You went behind the curtain,

maybe meeting Oz,

and even if I’d asked you “why?”

You’d just have said “Because...”

I pinned my third last dollar

to the back of a hobo’s coat,

he sang out Yankee Doodle

through splinters in his throat.