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On a dark and cold, winter's night in Omaha
I stumbled into a bar, that was well worth it's scars
The barmaid asked are you here for a woman or to just quench your thirst
I said I'm looking for Reno, he owes me money that was due on the first
She said he would be out in a minute and others were looking for him too
Reno came out with a smile until he saw the badge laying on the ground
He made a good run, but the lawmen had a gun
And ol Reno was lying face down

Reno old pal, why did you run, you know the cops and the law of their gun,
you get to leave and I must stay, it's not too fair, but it the price we have to pay

They ruled it as an accident and claimed that he tripped and fell
He was drinking too much, couldn't see where to walk to
I demanded justice for my righteous brother, they screamed and hollered at me, they said we'll send you right to hell
So I started marching to the ol' corrupt police station to give them a piece of my mind, I laid his picture down and they pulled our their guns
I tried to make a quick run, but the pain in my back could not take it as my body lay face in the ground

Oh Reno old pal, why did we run, we know the cops, and the law of their gun
You got to leave, and now I will too
It's not fair, But it's the price we pay
We walk out the black back door
With the broken glass window
At the warrant of a smoke
I let you lead me into the dark outside
Through the yard of twisting,
Tall sculptures made of tires,
Bottles, barbed wire, and foam

You grab my hand and fit me
Beside you in the circle consisting
Only of artists, some of whom
Stand, some of whom sit on old
Couch cushions, or lawn chairs
Which have been decaying
Underneath the wet, ***** snow

We, the huddled mass of jean
Jackets, knitted scarves, and nihilism,
Pass around a legal joint and cigarettes
Whose smoke rises into the fog
Of a mid-November midnight
As we freeze, and add laughter
To the hum of cars whizzing past
On the one-way side of 2nd Street

You and I find our place among
The artists, on a chair not once
Built with the intention of sustaining
The weight of two, but you ask
If I’ll sit on your lap anyway
And more than willingly, I oblige

We are now a part of this crowd—
The Burning Man drop-outs,
Too cool for our own selves
We shiver and vibrate in time
To the neon, changing streetlights
And not-too-far-off police sirens
And it is here, in your lap, surrounded
By the rubble of an artist’s junkyard
I look up and mouth /I love you/
And you mouth it silently back

-E (c) 2018
Taylor Delao Sep 2016
a haunting song
rolls on through
pitch black night,
the lyrics are written in
the dying smile of a neon sign.

my silver lined city
shakes with a
dusty cough.
brandon nagley Jul 2015
Reno, if a troll messeth with thee, forgiveth them
Their bound not free.

Reno, when the clown's maketh bad choices
Silence them with silence, not voices.

Reno, thou art a dear friend to me, so I thank thou
For always caring, and sharing what tis I believe.

Reno, thou art a being with class, and hopes art high,
Be thyself girl, let the poetry like bullet's fly.

Reno, we've been through this same type of hell,
Yet we don't quit do we? We're not trapped in some cell.

Reno, child of the lighter side,
Open thy mind, continue to expand, taketh that freak poet ride.

Reno, west coast poetic, like medicine thy word's art alphabetic
To soothe a person's bad day, into happiness in cool shade.

Reno, I shalt continue to back thine wonderful work's
And even whilst its us others do hurt, showeth them love always!

What a blessing to all of us thou art
Poetess by birth
Californian muse heart.....

©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Reno dedication/friendship dedication
I'll make more friendship poems soon (: just thought of this
Brianna Apr 2015
I won't miss your neon signs saying cocktails
I won't miss your judgmental dive bars and ****** hipster conversation.
I'll miss the soul in your music.
The best of the drum and strum of guitar the last night I saw this town for the **** hole it was.

I won't miss your trendy beer and lines of ******* across the toilet.
I won't miss the way girls wore shorts in the snow or boots in the summer.
I'll miss the soul in your heartbeat.
The way this town never sleeps and the way we stayed up wandering past midnight wondering about life.

I won't miss those people who pretend to know me.
I won't miss the way you pretended to love me.
I'll miss the soul in your music.
I'll miss the sweet innocence and the lost wonder as I speed as far away as I can from the place I once called home.
Brianna Jul 2014
You ran across the tracks losing sense of time and balance in the process.
I found myself staring at the clouds saying a final goodbye to those Reno skies.
You called out to me in a panic as I stepped aboard that impatiently waiting train.
I found myself stuck sitting next to a man who smelled like beer and cigarette... Thanks Reno for my final goodbye.
You waved and banged on the windows trying to get my attention one last time before I left.
But I was already daydreaming of big cities and distant places.
You did the best you could.
I did nothing at all.

— The End —