Jolly Roger Inn

Hell yes, announce my age. Then crash
the cymbals! Look, lightning lines my wallet!
Meet one man who ain’t worried about his bills!
Makes me bigger than mere you, every human
occupying the same brief amount of space
so we cannot be judged on square footage!
She’s good looking, yes. But cash is prayer
that gets answered over and over. I talk, too,
like a man who drowned doubt in the river.
Knowledge was never in this man’s world
about anything except how to get it done.
Here let me pay for this. I learned just how
to say...just when...as she leaned over
to wash the table with her bar towel...
“No tan lines, I like that.” Yeh. Keep my money
in my eyes. I’m seeing her tonight. The ex-wife
calls me to say again how I’m old and ugly,
but I run my finger along this life and check
for dust. Still clean. Speck free. All in place.
My age may be ambulance sirens, buildings
imploding all around, but for me, you’ll find
sunlight and moonlight work in shifts
to watch one man walk on,
walk straight on.