for all the men
in this bar,
the women whose love
is somewhere too far,
we will drink
beside them, admire such a city’s dismay
from the sewer’s of **** flushed here
every night.

even as the bartender
serves them,
I think you know
her love will never
come our way.

her love is too far
from this place -
perhaps not even there,
perhaps
she has no love
to give.

so, we drink
and drink
until we get so lonely that it just makes sense
to be here.

outside,
lions roam like the cats in the alleyways
and the people down here have
never seen a lion
before,
let alone see them
roam like cats in the alleyways.

so, keep drinking,
kid, because the sun is almost up
and our cash is almost done.

soon,
there won’t be any lions left,
but it’s alright -
here comes the bartender to serve us.
she’s has a pretty grin.

those
are the
ones
that hurt the most
when they leave,
leaving with all that magic,
that soul,
that music.

© 2015 Victor Parlatto