talking
like we’d known eachother for years.
One hand on your heart
the other on my guitar
you pledge your troth.
A prostitute
takes a swing at someguy
with a ketchup bottle.
No one takes much notice
least of all the guy.
4 a.m. already.
Known eachother less than an hour
when I stumbled into the last ounce
of Paul Colby’s party
(one of those Village Frontier scenes,
bagels, bangles and beans).
Someenchantedevening
acrossacrowdedroom etc.
I can’t believe my luck.
Then you tell me you need heroin
and could I let you have seven dollars.
Together we go to the counter
and I pay 50 cents for the coffee.
As we leave, the prostitute screams
and reaches for the ketchup.
It’s getting light.
I give you four dollars, all I have.
You kiss goodbye, no reason now to stay
i walk to my hotel, a poem’s throw away.