Tag Archives: poetry.

The Party On 77th Street (Or When The Barmaid Knows You Best).

The party was in full swing as beer and whisky were downed as if the world was ending.

I happily drank more than most and sat in the corner, the internal haze of my time

Gazing back at me through frosted glass and my smile,

Permanently plastered on this English face, for a while stopped beaming.

The noise outside the Manhattan window, the cars driving down 77th Street, the people

On the sidewalk, cheering in humour, some shouting in pain

At the arguments that fuelled the city. The sound of a distant gunshot

Leaving Ohio.

Kate was travelling in a new direction.

Leaving her old life behind with the ghosts of her past.

She hated who she was, she wanted to be different

To breathe in new air, breathe in new life

To not be a child, to be a woman at last.

 

Other people got on the bus, a man was crying,

I know how you feel my unknown friend.

She smiled to herself and closed her eyes

And wrapped her coat tightly around her petite body.

She dreamed of the flight she was taking to Paris.