Fantasy Poetry posted February 8, 2016

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The Mystique of Old Town

by krys123

Just another Saturday night
 sucking down the heaters
and holding an old cigar between my fingers
 on my shaky hand.
 I drool over Sally dancing which, by the way,
 hypnotizes every eye in this smoke ridden topless bar.
 For even watching Sally dance
couldn't arouse or cheer me up
 from my awful mood and drinking high test tequila,
 as this couldn't make me forget
 the last pretty who pulled a fast one on me.
 Here in this deep seedy project
of a lifetime of sorrow,
a place where I was born.
 I didn't have a say in the matter.
A place with lowlifes,
 the kind of people
that would rob their own mother
 for a cigarette or a dime.
I walked into my old bar, my haven,

 and told the lap dancers here
that I needed a good game.
 They told me if I went back to the boss's den
they'd eat me alive.
Then I told the girls that I was a tough chew,
  and went back there to play dead eye poker.
I won big and that kind of winning
 can get a man killed.
 Outside was hot, dry and windless night
 that makes men do sweaty secret things.
 Here women glide out of their coats
 like Christmas wrapping paper
while playing their bodies for all it's worth
 because,, let me tell you, it's worth plenty.
 After a while I leave and take a drive to nowhere.
I see Sally's thumb hanging out
at her side
 and wearing her tight leather top
 and hitchhiking to old town.
 I pick her delicious body up

 and drive her deeper into old town
where she blends into the sea of flesh
 that melts into the dark lights
of steamy trash.
Women, who make up the streets here,
 lean up against the walls 
and hold up the buildings with their backs
made for pleasure.
These old brick buildings where most junkies hide
 their stash behind loose bricks.
 You see Sally's a man killer and I'm crazy about her.
 She loves a man like a boa constrictor,
 but for me, I'm a hard swallow.
She once kicked me so hard
 it was like an atom bomb going off between my legs.
 I could taste my stomach coming up.
 I've even been in a brawl over her many times.
One time it felt like the pavement came up to give me a
 big fat sloppy kiss
 and I was battered before the road came up to hit me.
  But I love her and this is old town,
 and I'm stuck on her and this place.



Free Verse Poetry Contest contest entry


Pictures courtesy of Google
My idea for this poem came from
Frank Miller's movie
Same City
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