The Street is pretty empty
Just the locals out tonight
It's New Year's Eve and chilly
Seems this time, that all is right

No drunken revelers on the Street
All the buildings are shut tight
Except the bar and Gianni's place
On the Street, that's just alright

The Blues Man sits out back right now
And he's looking at the moon
No fireworks, or crystal *****
Say the New Year's coming soon

He coughs a bit, a little harsh
Grabs his medcin, and guitar
then he gently starts to playing
Looking at a single star

There's a few folks in Giannis
Watching the ball drop on tv
The bar is full of locals
Where the New Year's shots are free

But out back of Gianni's
The Blues Man sits in peace
Singing gently to the midnight sky
Sitting besides the drums of grease

This year he found his daughter
Memories of years gone by
And he sings tales of their meeting
To the chilly, midnight sky

His daughter is his lodestone
She keeps him grounded, always did
No matter where he ventured
He always loved his missing kid

She's drinking at the bar now
While The Blues Man sits out back
Singing tunes in Winter Darkness
He lets us in...but just a crack

The door behind Gianni's
Is open, just a bit
It's open for the Blues Man
To go get warm and sit

But, for now, he sits here playing
As the New Year ventures in
He sings songs about redemption
And he drinks his medcin

An hour in and locals
Leave Gianni's and the bar
They venture to the alley
Where he's playing to that star

They join him in silence
Hear his prayer for the year new
They are swept up in his magic
And let him do what he must do

He smiles and keeps on singing
Fills the night air with his voice
For no matter how his life is
He only had one choice

He's the Blues Man, always will be
He's the teller of the tales
He sings songs out in the alley
He's the wind in the Street's sails

He finishes his last song
His daughter standing, smiling wide
She gives him a kiss upon his forehead
And she ushers him aside

He'll wake up again tomorrow
In the alley, cold but free
That's the life of The Street Blues Man
And that's the way ...that it should be.

The girl with the book, sitting alone at the bar
Sipping her 16oz glass, head in her pages

A quiet moment, surrounded by strangers
To be alone in your head, but programmed to be present in the normality of reality

To write in a public space but to avoid conversation
But welcome it, when it presents itself

To live without a penalty of, if, things don’t go your way,
Or to have the lines and be able to overthrow them

To meet new friends and be introduced to others

And to find out that we all need a quiet moment
In the middle of strangers

The back bar is
elaborately decorated:
Etched glass, mirrors, and lights.
A set of shelves full of glasses,
bottles behind that counter.

An elegant bar focused
On wine rather
Than on beer or liquor,
Or so said your rose colored
Cheek bones.

I haven't been
Since the music
Stopped playing.

I am sitting in the bar writing this. I started at the Sir Francis Drake, and I will do a tour of duty in all the great bars of the city before morning. There is a storm outside, a fresh wind and a choppy see from my voyage. But the earth isn't quite big enough for me tonight. I am now at The Globe and plan to proceed to The Moon and The Stars and then make a journey to all the planets, ending in the constellation of Venus - anything so as to be closer to the pleasure zone that is yours, all yours.

It's not my fault I am here. It would start to rain as we were waiting for the bus, and those stupid feelings of mine, hauled me into this bar. It is a dark, cold, confounded hole, fit only for desperadoes and down-and-outs. The cold outside made the warmth of the wine work faster on me.

I wish you could see me now as I am definitely not myself anymore. I'm a much pleasanter, warmer, wittier person than when cold sober and I am sure that I could win your love when I am like this.

The wine hisses upon my heart. Cupid has fired a dart into my liver. I am asking the barman for ice to cool my fevered thoughts. Ice! Clear and cold and definitely melting, just like you. The idiot has brought me olives instead. This is a damnable place. A hideous world, I wish I were out of it and in heaven, by which, of course I mean in your arms. Ah, if only they were bottling your bath water - then there'd be something to slake this incredible thirst! I'd close my eyes, sip you slowly, and let you slide down my throat.

This is my constant prayer, wether I am drunk or sober.

Sitting at a bar, beautiful girl in front of me.
Im a no body not even a regular, I chat her up anyway with no confidence....
Boy friend, should have guessed, oh well talk to her anyway, make a name for myself.
Guys walk in at the end of the bar, slowly take her away from me.
I walk away with shame, what was I hoping for?
No good for anyone anyway, too beautiful for me.
With a soft smile and a black hat, as I walk away I look over my shoulder to something that could have been.
Too late, not enough umph..
Tomorrow's another day, another let down.

I'm just me...
An expectation by royal decree,
Why should you ask for so much,
Knowing I could never please you as such?

Set the bar high
So I know my place
When you were wanting to die
I was left as nothing but a disgrace

Set the bar low
So I know your trust
When you were wanting to go
I was left to nothing but rust

Set the bar fair
So I know of chance
When you were wanting to be happy my dear
I was left as a puppet to dance

Set the bar high
So I know how it feels
When you were wanting to break down and cry
I was left alone as my heart reels

Set the bar low
So I know where to fall
When you were wanting answers I didnt know
I was left with nothing at all

Set the bar fair
So I know you love me
When you were wanting everything to be square
*I was left patiently waiting to see

He shouted
the music booming
smoke like tendrils around her face
tiny tremors marching beneath,
the same ones that led him to this place,
the ones that pointed to Her,
Her,
always Her.

Her,
                    the one beside the bar
Her,
                    the blue eyed specter with leather boots
Her,
                    the final note in the euphony known as Saturday night


                                           She shouted back
whites of eyes glowing against the black light,
his faint neon smile revealed,
tiny tremors pushing forward,
the same ones that brought her there,
the ones that brought him,
Him,
always Him.

Him,
                    the one muted by the music
Him,
                    the dark haired calamity with red adidas
Him,
                    the only one to hear the cacophony of night

              
                  They shouted
                             led by the echoes inside
                             into the street
                             tiny tremors beautified by the fresh air
                             the same ones that vibrate beneath
                             the ones that marched
                                                         ­          and pushed
                                                     and gazed through the window
                             the ones that lead always to her
                             the ones that always brings them close
Tiny tremors engulfing them
Them,
always Them.