All to end
one way or another.....
on the 7th of May.
I want things...........THE SAME.
I want to walk through the shapes
of my memories HERE.
Touch the stones, and have them feel me back.
I still blow a kiss, my genuflect, every time
I walk past the STILL burned out shell
of THE BLACK CAT on 6th Street.
The Flame Trick Subs...play BEERLAND now.
And it isn't the same.
IT's GOOD, yes...
But the ceiling used to fall apart a little
when they played THE BLACK CAT every Saturday night at Midnight.
You were always half afraid/delighted by the potential of it ALL just crashing
to the ground around You.
Peggy Suicide's stand-up Bass, thumping HARD.
The lights would hit the dust falling, like Hell's Snow...
There was no A/C or heat, and the bathrooms were...out back.
A chain holding the available TP outside the two barbaric stalls.
You rolled up your fist...and ventured in.
And read the walls.
I wonder how they even locked the thing at night...
it was such a creaking haunted house, open to the elements.
And if you are even THINKING IT..........
There was no insurance to be had
when it burned to the ground.
IT was a Holy place.
Supported after the death of it's owner, Paul, by Family--
It's creaking dissolving frame brought to life each week....
by the music that rocked it's bones.
It was ALL AGES.
An old T-shirt read: I went to a Fight, And a Flame Trick Subs Show broke out!
But always handled (nearly always) Well.
I was a girl alone there, often.
Hell breaking loose all around me.
But I was never afraid.
Strangers, in Ink armor and slick pompadours--
took care of the girls.
And the band.
And the House.
They weren't strangers for long.
*touches her stones, fondles them*
I Like My Bars Smokey And Dangerous.
That's why I go to them.
For the Laughter in the Face of Death.
For all the poison i inhale, swallow.........
is what a BAR is FOR.