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“The Alley”
Harry could taste the blood in his mouth,
It had that familiar metallic taste to it.
Harry could remember swinging,
A wild round house with his right fist,
And a strong upper cut with his left.
He was pretty sure he connected with both blows,
But he can’t remember much now.
Harry pulls himself up from a crumpled pile,
Off the alley way floor,
Into a sitting position,
With his back up against a brick wall.
He examines his fists,
For signs of a fight,
Both his knuckles and palms,
Have cuts and abrasions on them.
Harry tried to think back,
An hour, 2-hours,
How long had he been in this alley?
Harry looked down the alley for a cross street,
He could see a neon sign,
In a store front window,
Across the street,
Top Hat cleaners.
Harry steadied himself against the wall,
As he struggled to stand up,
Under his own weight.
His first couple of steps were wobbly,
His right shoulder dragging along the wall,
As he walked.
Once he got up to speed,
He was able to straighten up.
Harry got to the end of the alley,
Looking both ways,
Down the quite side street.
He could hear a “Plinking” sound,
Above him,
As he decided,
Which way down the street to go.
A right,
Would take him towards home,
A left,
Back into town,
And the bars.
“Plink”, “Plink”, “Plink”,
Harry looks up above him,
He sees a big fat summer insect,
Flying around,
Bouncing off the bare bulb,
Of a door way light.
Drawn to the bright light,
Over and over and over,
Getting burned each time,
And closer to death,
With each “Plink”.
Harry puts his hand in his pocket,
And pulls out a fist full,
Of wadded up bills.
There must be at least 20-bucks here,
He thinks.
Harry looks at his watch,
12:47am,
Bars will still be open,
For another hour.
Harry wipes his face,
With the back of his shirt sleeve.
Try’s to tuck his shirt in,
The best he can.
“Plink”, ”Plink”, ”Plink”,
And takes a left,
Down the deserted side street,
Towards the burning lights,
Of the city…
Tom Allen…01-13-2017…
Harry could taste the blood in his mouth,
It had that familiar metallic taste to it.
Harry could remember swinging,
A wild round house with his right fist,
And a strong upper cut with his left.
He was pretty sure he connected with both blows,
But he can’t remember much now.
Harry pulls himself up from a crumpled pile,
Off the alley way floor,
Into a sitting position,
With his back up against a brick wall.
He examines his fists,
For signs of a fight,
Both his knuckles and palms,
Have cuts and abrasions on them.
Harry tried to think back,
An hour, 2-hours,
How long had he been in this alley?
Harry looked down the alley for a cross street,
He could see a neon sign,
In a store front window,
Across the street,
Top Hat cleaners.
Harry steadied himself against the wall,
As he struggled to stand up,
Under his own weight.
His first couple of steps were wobbly,
His right shoulder dragging along the wall,
As he walked.
Once he got up to speed,
He was able to straighten up.
Harry got to the end of the alley,
Looking both ways,
Down the quite side street.
He could hear a “Plinking” sound,
Above him,
As he decided,
Which way down the street to go.
A right,
Would take him towards home,
A left,
Back into town,
And the bars.
“Plink”, “Plink”, “Plink”,
Harry looks up above him,
He sees a big fat summer insect,
Flying around,
Bouncing off the bare bulb,
Of a door way light.
Drawn to the bright light,
Over and over and over,
Getting burned each time,
And closer to death,
With each “Plink”.
Harry puts his hand in his pocket,
And pulls out a fist full,
Of wadded up bills.
There must be at least 20-bucks here,
He thinks.
Harry looks at his watch,
12:47am,
Bars will still be open,
For another hour.
Harry wipes his face,
With the back of his shirt sleeve.
Try’s to tuck his shirt in,
The best he can.
“Plink”, ”Plink”, ”Plink”,
And takes a left,
Down the deserted side street,
Towards the burning lights,
Of the city…
Tom Allen…01-13-2017…