Vincent's

Vincent's

I put some Tom Waits on the juke box,
and grab a seat at the bar,
the top of which is lacquered over pulp novel covers,
I order my 'gansett draft,
and let my surroundings settle in,
all over the walls are carcasses of dead animals,
both real and imagined,
and pictures of people long since gone,
their names have not been spoken in decades,
here I am just another face in the crowd,
come to relax, escape, or drown my sorrows,
this is where I come to find my sanity.