Down on Hoffer Street

The lights were dim at Mary Sims

Bar and Grill for broken hearts.

It stood on Hoffer Street near the city’s heart.

 Dirty feet danced clumsily in Mary’s darkened cove

our lips and tongues moved to a bluesy Buddy Guy

dirty martinis everywhere.

I was higher than a lightening rod on Saint John’s golden cross

Jesus held his breath as I reached out

for your hand smooth and dark as the globeless dance floor.

We didn’t care.  After all, the blues gave us clues to our secrets

hidden deep in our skin so opposite, so hot.  Hoffer Street hopped.

We hopped with it into the night, into the folds of our love,

into the folds of purity, the folds of freedom down on Hoffer Street.

One comment

  1. sdgrimes · January 28

    Reblogged this on third finger from the right.

    Like

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