Down a flight of sagging iron stairs
it slides
and fills the below-sidewalk dive.
When the black door opens
it and old sunlight come in.
And smoke fills the mind.
The Dugout Tavern -
Hopper's last stop is here.
Its yellow-and-green denizens
mumble in booths of darkness
or at the bar, burning
cigarette to cigarette, their
bodies blurred smeared blended
like the cheap booze poured
but never spilled, and
never seem to notice.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
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