musings of a lost boy

personal philosophies.

i'm meltin' in my favorite stool again,
the one with the paint kinda worn
from all the lost boys drinkin' and dyin' in it,
driftin' from night to night,
never really thinkin' about what's what
till it's too dark to dream.

ain't knockin' em, though.
'cause when the band's playin'
that song everyone knows,
the one that goes
doo-dah-dah-doo,
and the dames is boppin'
and the gents is sinnin' in their bones
behind still-sharp beer and flutterin' lady lips...
ain't nothin' else to do.

"booze cures the blues",
some wise-a*s poet once growled
between sips of confidence.

he's dead now, of course,
but i dig what he said all the same.

well, i ain't got the blues,
but i got the booze.
the smoke is streamin',
the jazz is jazzin',
and the night's all right.

guess i can dig that, too.

© 2011 Daniel Atkinson

Author's Note

This is a sequel of sorts to "friday night at the speakeasy". People liked the voice and the character of the piece, so I decided to write another with the same narrator. This will be the first in a series of poems featuring this character.