Jack Dempsy's bar New York 1983
Oh god. Oh Dear.
A hangover in New York New York.
Small recollections through
hazes of alcohol pulsed pain.
Shaking fingers fumbling
for coffee and cigarette.
In a dark wood cased cabin
from sweat stinking bunk.
A million other people
who jerked through the same dance
Night before around the world.
I stepped in time with you.
On subways that fled past
as horizontal kaleidoscopes
filled with germs and smoke,
And the lost waiting mindlessly
For a gap to mind.
With silent frightened dwellers
seen in a thousand unseen glimpses.
Speeding past every mugger
and murderer in New York.
On the way to towers of shit
and drugs and petty insanity.
Noo Yoik and beef boigers.
Jack Dempsey’s bar full
of punch drunk memories.
“Get the Limey a drink”.
Broken old pugs living
to fight again in Jacks bar.
Walls washed in raging bulls,
floating butterflies and marvellous sugar.
“Hey man you wanna wild toiky”.
Bourbon drinking competition.
Two US marines vomiting their youth away.
“You’d better clean that up motherfucker”.
Barmaid has tattoos
And a way with words.
The competition never trained.
As I had, from sixteen.
Fisherboy to Fisherman,
trying to be both.
Never growing up.
We had hard drinking trainers.
On Hessel Rd in “Raynors pub”.