Poetry

Copacabana NY (poem)

Underground space always alive. Awake.

Laughter, clinking glasses, dancing heels

the song of the sax

chant of the cello

pull of the piano.

Each ever-moving body

is clad, head to toe,

in golds and silvers

twinkling like stars, at night

with every jig.

Suit and tie are mandatory, here.

 

Mystery is kept

by smoky whispers of cigars,

dimly lit lamps

perfect for the rumbling

of romance…

 

And their eyes haven’t seen

                                                    straight

for hours. Days, weeks, years…

Intoxicated with the blur

of dark liquids and small pills.

But legs don’t crumble, here.

Strengthened by mirth;

Coaxed by fast-friends

 

Even the Top Dogs that bark

and bite

laugh here.

Lords at war with their postcode laws, broken

– by neighbouring Kings.

Heads in beds, don’t sleep.

But there’s peace at the watering hole

Lion and lamb both drink.

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