Boston
There is a boy in front of a monitor
with his fingers on the keys
typing so furiously about being on his knees
he has been begging for a change
his cries are heard but disregarded
apartment a mess, empty bottles
and flies that need to be killed
the boy is still pounding at the keys
trying to get some emotion out
he can only manage to sweat
and build up an appetite
"it's time for a break"
an open door
and the patter of footfall on steps
a restaurant on Boston ave
his normal retreat for coffee
or a one night stand
pool table lighted, smoke and coughs
he sits down in the back corner
devoid of most patrons, except a few
much like him, deserters of art
at least for a few hours
a pretty girl with pretty shaped eyes
she's sitting two tables across from him
a wink and a nod from the boy
silhouetted now by ceiling fan fixtures
she ambled elegantly towards him
and joined the boy for a drink
they talked of poems and bicycles
while their feet toyed with one another
the boy couldn't help but notice
that he had written about her for nights
dark skin from the summer sun
blue eyes from Scotland
hair the color of trees in the winter
money on the table, a tip
and another closed door
followed by a walk back down Boston ave
the pitter-patter of apartment building stairs
this time the tapping came in pairs
an open door
came to a close
with his fingers on the keys
typing so furiously about being on his knees
he has been begging for a change
his cries are heard but disregarded
apartment a mess, empty bottles
and flies that need to be killed
the boy is still pounding at the keys
trying to get some emotion out
he can only manage to sweat
and build up an appetite
"it's time for a break"
an open door
and the patter of footfall on steps
a restaurant on Boston ave
his normal retreat for coffee
or a one night stand
pool table lighted, smoke and coughs
he sits down in the back corner
devoid of most patrons, except a few
much like him, deserters of art
at least for a few hours
a pretty girl with pretty shaped eyes
she's sitting two tables across from him
a wink and a nod from the boy
silhouetted now by ceiling fan fixtures
she ambled elegantly towards him
and joined the boy for a drink
they talked of poems and bicycles
while their feet toyed with one another
the boy couldn't help but notice
that he had written about her for nights
dark skin from the summer sun
blue eyes from Scotland
hair the color of trees in the winter
money on the table, a tip
and another closed door
followed by a walk back down Boston ave
the pitter-patter of apartment building stairs
this time the tapping came in pairs
an open door
came to a close