This is the "Gay Bar," we say in hushed tones.
It's on the other side of the tracks, everybody knows.
The parking lot is filled with broken bottles
A dangerous sparkle for a lot so mottled
Country music leaks out the cracks of the walls
Redneck homos? Yeah, it's Wichita Falls!
Crossing the veil we exit the night.
Immersed in stale smoke and not enough light.
I shuffle in across the sticky floor.
Regulars' heads lift towards the door.
It has been years since anyone cares.
Down turned faces and blank eyed stares
The melancholy presses me down on a stool.
But I won't stay long, I won't be fooled
You'll find there is no fairy wishing star
Only loneliness in the sad gay bar.
No comments:
Post a Comment