Saturday on the Bowery in 1982

31 Mar


Saturday on the Bowery in 1982


Wearing his torn Joy Division shirt

he was stabbed in the gut with a golden shiv

his hair fell across his brow, tangled, amber

and then he slouched

grabbed his stomach

and tried to walk away

but they wouldn’t let him go

he was fumbling in the wrong direction

and they wanted to ensure that he got home

where he would find his vodka condensing in worried beads

shivering in the freezer  

eager to welcome him with a searing gulp

and a hug across the open wound

so they grabbed his shoulders

ensnaring, each one took a side

and they led him to where he was wanted

where he was supposed to go

after last call

and they reminded him

that “generally, even Isadora Duncan is only known for breaking her neck”

it won’t hurt much

until the drink turns to an opalescent promise

and the colors begin to laugh

like synesthesia growing senescent

but it’s all alright

because it all becomes

as long as you have friends

who’ll stab you in the front

and then walk you home

whistling the guitar line of “She’s Lost Control”

humming along

as the stubborn night creaks with condonation


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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings

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