(no subject)

[10dotsinlarceny]

I say to myself:
no more
dropping thirty dollars nightly
walking home
drunkenly
I say to myself:
the bars are always
empty, no matter
how many people
the dull lights shine on.
I try and tell myself
that there is
no hope there
like the old-country prophets
on the corner wearing
signs of judgement.

But for there to be
no hope there,
where is hope?
Hope can't be found
in the rocks glasses,
the bar stools
hope won't hide in
the cigarette machine
you won't find it in conversation
there
or in a girl's eyes
and much less her underwear
not there amidst
throngs of slumping
dancers tired and sweating,
but if not there,
where people go to live life
away from Lives,
then where?