Thu, 04/30/2015 - 15:05 -- rcl804

I remember those days of sitting in the park writing down my cheesy love songs.
Seeing creative minds stroll by,
in fact once this mind read over my shoulder and saw my lyrics.
Before I knew it he offered me a job at his newly opened bar.
One night, one-man show, no strings attached.
I showed up, they had a piano set up for me.
It was a smooth sort of atmosphere, the kind you'd see in indie movies.
People clapped as they finished their drinks and listened to the songs of my hopeless heart.
Many people stopped by the piano and tipped me, I'm just glad they liked it.

When the doors finally closed, I had gotten an envelope of money.
My father used to tell me money would get me anywhere.
As I was counting the bills I got invited to a poker bar a few blocks down
by one of the audience members.
I could tell you honestly now, I loved money.
But man, oh man it did not love me back.
Every night I would go into the bar and buy every chip I could lay my hands on,
before I knew it they always found a way to find a new home.

I started sleeping in the parking lot in front of the bar I worked at,
it was next to a very busy street-
Ambulance, police, vans full of someone's family.
The sweet sirens soon became depressing to hear,
knowing none of them came for me.
So I spent all my hours at the poker table, my new home.
Ladies night on Thursdays, Tuesday is always pay day.
The air was always foggy and strong cologne stained my lungs.
Those were strange times.

I remember one in night in particular, there was a young, hip musician at my table.
With ironically his first pay check, unlike me though he only came by once.
Only once.
Then the bar I worked at hired him for a night.
When I saw him on stage, I couldn't believe my eyes.
My ears began to weep.
Not because he was bad, it was actually quite beautiful.
But because he had sung the hopeless lyrics that I used to.

Soon, the boss let me walk.
At the time I still couldn't believe it,
"What does he have that I don't?"
"My car will be more expensive to maintain now."
"How can I sit at the table now?"
Restlessly hitting the glove compartment in my car trying to lay comfortably
wasn't as easy as it used to be.
The next morning my head pounded, my mind went a frizz,
and I got that feeling that you get when you reach the bottom of the pool and you can't reach top and you get that sinking feeling in your stomach?
Maybe it's only me.

My eyes were glued to the concrete,
with my stomach stinking in with each step.
Cars flashed by, early morning lights,
and a polka dotted scarf.
She had spilled coffee onto my pea coat.
Her soft, gentle green eyes sang as they looked at my jacket,
"Oh no, sir! I'm so so so sorry,"
she reached into her leather jacket pocket for her,
"I was just in a rush and I didn't mean-"
though she kept on babbling, her eyes kept singing.

She lit up the world around with colour.
I could see her lips moving, but no words came out.
I will never forget that day.
The songs I was so desperate to hear.
It wasn't the cheer of winning or the claps in the crowds.
It wasn't the cars speeding past going on without me.
The song I have been missing, so desperately to find,
was in her eyes.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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