1st Ave South / Georgetown

Kctock, kctock, kctock...
flagpole morse code
spills over
the diesel stained stand
of oak trees.
Above us
a twisting smear of solstace raincloud
dyes the salmon gutted sky
bullet gray.
Deep in Georgetown
the longest day
pays the cover charge
and takes a
back seat
at the rockabilly hangings.
In the pomade oil slick
the black banged bad girl
tumbled slowly down the steps
her whisky glass breaking
like amber blossoms of flak.
Graffiti ribbons of
t.v. yellow Les Paul junior
strangle the empty streets
and tired factories.
Brown bottle microphone shouting
pings like sonar
against the delivery truck's
rusted carcass.
The people who came
are here but gone.
More tiny glass flak blossoms
and falling bad girls
slowdance stagger
and backyard vomit
as the amplifiers
get put away.
It is always late here
and there is no time
but the flagpole
keeps on playing
my S.O.S.