in Coney Island <br />a bit past midnight <br />my pint half gone <br />yet somehow happy <br />don’t know why <br />don’t care <br />just dwelling there <br />a young guy appears early twenties <br />no shoes sores on his feet <br />suit jacket no shirt <br />cigarette dangling from dry lips <br />head bobbing back and forth <br />puts the coat over his head <br />at times an eye peers out <br />searching <br />flip the bottle <br />into my mouth <br />gulp <br />nearly gone <br />hold it out <br />for the dear lad <br />to share this strange midnight joy <br />eye retreats into dark cloth <br />I wait <br />still hiding <br />the bottle returns <br />a deep swallow <br />until the Jack Daniel’s gone <br />the eye appears <br />searching <br />but <br />too late <br />now. <br />the story of his life? <br />my life?<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/kansas-fried-chicken/
