Panama Jane

Panama Jane

I drove by our old haunt today and saw that girl,
The pretty one – so dark and dusky,
Her hair and cart piled high with bleach-weak towels,
Old spray bottles, refreshed –
White water vinegar and the promise of a new day

In my mind I watched her strip those thirty-nine dollar beds,
Pull back drapes,crank open windows,
Purging the side by side lies,
The promises whispered in gangrene haste
Strung up and down this aging beach town...
Faded paper lanterns in the heavy, salted sun.

It was reassuring, somehow, knowing she's still there,
The dusky, dark-haired angel, towels in tow,
Watching over her flock by night…
Wiping away all our sins