That Midnight Run
   

We go to San Francisco
I have the car
“If we leave by ten p.m. …” Mary says
We talk of jazz clubs
blues clubs
rock clubs
Mind candy
for the under-employed
We sit in living rooms
eucalyptus inspired
Our friend tries to sell
a four-foot ear
to the phone company
We leave at three
our blasé innocence intact
 This is our misspent youth
we squander it with abandon
stay in hotels
meet smoky men
dance in unassuming stairways
We’ve dropped acid so many times
it’s hardly worth the bother
At two a.m.
out of a second story window
a telephone plummets onto the car
“The sniper!” we scream
From the floor
someone reaches the receiver
“It’s for you” he says

 
 
Copyright © Rose Lobel, 2006
All rights Reserved

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

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