Friday, December 5, 2014

Waiting for me at the end of the bar is

Waiting for me at the end of the bar is
a kindness not often seen in dreams or
novels by hack authors but a lofty kind
of treasure given to those smart enough
to know it and accept it.

She holds a key to parts of my heart and
mind but not my soul as that is the final
resting place for all attempts beyond the
lust and philosophies required to be want
as love or whatever that defined is.

My work in this palace of working class
desire and attributes does give me great
pause and pleasure as to the human nature
and condition to celebrate and weep in the
annals of defeat thus my job to comfort.

I grew into this vocation early on and took
a vicissitude of many moments and be able
to withstand all the shocks that are thrown
at one during the composure maintained
as the work warrants steady loving.

Still, there she waits for me to finish my task
at hand and accept the cheers of an audience
wrought with flavors of admiration and untold
bouts of joy for that is what this profession is
the key to bring out of all sorrows held in.

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