New Hope

walking around this place,

as the late afternoon dusk begins

to ascend,

I feel the words stirring within,

a sign in front of a coffee/snack bar announces;

‘exotic drinks inside’ and I quietly wonder

if this means they will strip for dollar bills;

I see tomato pies on bridge street

and fight the temptation to go

inside and ask for a polite junkie,

inside new gypsies, there is a warning sign informing patrons

they do not cater to practitioners of black magick;

only good witches live here;

my wife points out an american flag,

with an image of Morrison in the middle,

I go in to ask about the price,

but then decide not too, once I’m inside,

somehow I don’t think he’d approve of the

commercialism of it all,

but then who knows,

if he were alive today,

perhaps he’d be doing ads for

american express,

and singing light my fire in Vegas for a

cavalcade of golden oldies extravaganza;

old age and money

have a way of doing those things;

then the thought occurs to me,

don’t you think he knew that?

isn't that why in the end,

he chose death over selling out;

later, inside a little strip mall,

bodily functions call out (I gotta take a shit),

only to find out it will cost me a quarter, so

I pay the lady guarding the door,

then proceed to take a thirty minute dump,

I smile at the guard lady on the way out,

as she angrily glares back;

it was the best damn quarter

I ever spent.

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