let them watch as she dances
their desperation hanging
like the smoke from their cigarettes

a sea of bloated bellies
and empty glasses
cast hungry glances from high
up on their bar stools

she will dance
and they will wish
they still had a spark that
could catch her attention
longing for a night
taken from the pages of their
glory days

let them watch

in hopes that a piece of her spirit
will twirl off her skirt
for them to capture
and put on a shelf
along with what they once
had been

just another thursday night
at the tragic tavern