and so we’ve had another night
of poetry and poses
and each man knows he’ll be alone
when the sacred ginmill closes.
and so we’ll drink the final glass
each to his joy and sorrow
and hope the numbing drunk
will last til opening tomorrow.
and when we stumble back again
like paralytic dancers
each knows the questions he must ask
and each man knows the answers.
and so we’d drink the final drink
that cuts the brain in sections
where answers do not signify
and there aren’t any questions.
I broke my heart the other day.
It will mend again tomorrow.
If I’d been drunk when I was born
I’d be ignorant of sorrow.
and so we’ll drink the final toast
that neve r can be spoken:
Here’s to the heart that is
to know when it’s better off broken..
finally found it…..happy new year..love jackie
LAST CALL (BY DAVE VAN RONK)