That club where we used to hang out
That old club where we used to hang out
One of the legs was crooked
holding up the canvas awning.
Sign said – Live Music at the Greenwich
You won’t find a brightly painted toucan
or an autographed guitar hanging there
only agent Egypt with King Tut and Isis
standing guard over bottles of Grand Marnier,
the bar mirror reflecting hunched shoulders
and cocktails served in plastic cups.
It don’t look like much
with its jammed up stage,
its crooked red velvet curtains.
Then all that soft feathered tom-tom,
boom boom on the bass,
sweet sound of the sax,
curls your toes
Transfixed and tranquilized,
you’re transported outta here.
7 thoughts on "That club where we used to hang out"
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Yes! I love this poem so much because it reminds me of the bar I go to all the time. What it lacks in appearance is more than made up by the beautiful spirit within.
Yes! You gave us the feel of the place!
I really enjoyed this
You’ve captured the sights and sounds of this place!
I love all poems, music, and this one is terrific. My attention kept getting drawn, though, to this line:
“One of the legs was crooked”
Now I’m nostalgic for a place I’ve never been. Your descriptions are near-perect. Good job.
Great re-creation of a magical place. I feel as though I’ve been there–or that you’ve been to a place I remember.