The Wake

At the Café Du Borg the exhaling marijuana
plays nostril hair endings like a loose mandolin.
The girls who brought us here are Dutch and after
mayonnaise and french fries I realize two things—
that life is all we’ll ever have,
and everyone is lonely.
After the café they run us to their favorite bar,
a place called Bogart’s with its neon lights shining.
I get a Guinness and Dave has an Amstel and the girls
all order up the same mixed drink. I am unimpressed.
They love this place. The walls are wood and dark.
We get a table, they tell stories of some boys who
were from Austria, who had previously tried
(the very same night) to do what we were doing now.
I call their bluff and keep on drinking.
Here we were a million miles from home
and all we could find was this? I leave him there.
The air is damp. The streets are packed
with chickens. Coca, Ecstasy, Hash, Coca, Coca,
What you need? Hey what you need?
I find a street like origami, in the red lights
of the doors, I see an angel who is naked,
who is with some other guy. I walk in circles
for an hour, in and out of all the shops. A group
of guys I pass are giddy, with the window sale sex.
All the people here are crazy. All the lights
are too damn bright. As I walk back to our hotel
along the river, Coca, Ecstasy, Hey…I realize two things—
that Mother Mary wasn’t a virgin,
and Jesus never had a son.
The hotel lobby is a crazy place at 2 am.
Dave is already back without the girls, he lost them
at some other bar. A lady is trying to pay for a room
but the place is full. The guy at the desk is sorry
he says, but there’s no more rooms, he doesn’t lie,
his face is filled with late regret, his hands still shake
like bad tattoos.