The Center of the City

The center of the city
is never sleeping.
Tonight is no different.

Two burly, bearded men
guard the entrance
to a low-level building.

Inconspicuous
on the outside;
but inside, that changes.

Strobe lights
create blaring images
of tiny, dancing angels.

The music of Jamie Foxx
is blasting, shaking
from amped-up speakers.

White-blond bartenders
serve Henekin and Coors
straight from the can.

The stench of weed
is ingrained, deeply,
in every head of hair.

Men ask women to dance.
Women smile, giggle,
and softly slip away.

Women ask men to dance.
Men quickly, desperately,
fumble for apartment keys.

Every single soul
is content, or drunk, or high;
it is all the same.

Yet I sit, alone, in a corner,
my head resting on a table:
wondering what I am doing here.


~J.V.Harker~
~Friday 7 August 2009~