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.