Journal Poem - On Hope

Hope hangs her damaged head like a daisy,
In disbelief that hands could be so cruel -

-------

Hope sits in the corner of the bar silent
with the music and eyes and feet -
pressing along with dirty fingernails and
tight clothes on top of folded skin
waiting for the perfect vacant seat -
On which to seduce another damaged man
With dreams drawn on naked bodies;-
Naked wandering beer glass broken streets
For the true and the real life-loving grin;
Hope stretches her arms and yawns
Searching the alternative choices she pretends
Will charm her when the music quavers and ends.
Big sunglasses can't suppress the out-cry
Of a socially dependant grown-up lie.
I just saw Hope wink from the corner of the bar
At the tattooed convict strumming his guitar.


5.22.09