Topps

I met you once, or maybe twice it was
beyond my college age when money became
available through work day woes. Your name,
a headliner on the circuit strip. Applause
at your painted fingertips, you stop to give pause
and pose. Each twenty minute routine the same
for you but not for me. To swallow such shame
takes time. The rehearsed, justified “because”
becomes a shallow excuse, even for twenty-
somethings. It’s not a place to meet up with friends
or a club for gentleman of any sort
but the depraved, the desperate and seedy
kind. Everything about this is all pretend,
this city sanctuary of last resort.

5/16/11