at The End of The Bar
Strawberry Fields plays on the jukebox.
I have lost my lust for women
I think,
as I light a match
to light the cigarette
between my fingers
I inhale. . .deep
the smoke casts a haze
over my memories
of what lust once looked like
felt like, tasted like
and regretted like
I exhale. . .long
the smoke casts a haze
in the opposite direction, and
when it clears,
I then remember
what lust once meant to me
and what it means
to the young man
hitting on the pretty brunette
at the end of the bar.
