I’d choose to err on the grungy side of gourmet, thanks.
One time I sat at this counter
sandwiched in between two shining vikings
of the night, spiced ginger beards
and beer, enjoying the company of fun guys. .
I sat, with an energy less reserved for twitching
chihuahuas and more the like of a sugared-up child.
Full of desire to ride the rides and see,
with pupils waxing, all the sights.
And at this counter I gazed into the eyes-
bewildered eyes - of the art show flyer
held with scotch tape to grease-splattered walls,
and at this counter I stared
into the shifting soul of the aged demon
tattoo staring me down from arms well-obscured
by a full parlor’s worth of ornament.
Ropes of hair
in defiance of gravity
One time I left the muggy May evening
to go in and take my place
among the normal people from the
ecstatic haze of an altered condition.