Nightlife

Near closing---Bar's almost quiet.
A lime-green pool-table stands
Just as the last players left it
When they went for air, and a cigarette
And didn't come back again.
Caught in florescent amber
Each man's mind runs after his will,
But--sad to say--often too slowly.
Scrubbing a fouled table
The waiter is tunelessly humming;
Workmen hunch over their beers;
(The red wall-clock seems to smile…
Only a moment until
This old day dives into was-ness; )
Offers are fumblingly made
And bowstring-tense answers given---
Cash changes hands—They go out,
Young man and young woman, together.
A wrinkled old fellow in brown
--With the face of an apostle—
Mutters into his drink
Then fiercely stares at stained ceiling,
Where  lights---mad hornets---still buzz
Brooding over the barroom.
This is the story of souls,
Glittering, terrible and lovely---
Here and then gone---From the darkness
Outside, an owl calls Whooo, Where are you?
Calls for her mate, but the wind
Brings no answer to her longing.