too tough days

New Orleans was a place to hide. I could piss away my life, unmolested. Bukowski

so good it made me a w***e
for a few good days, and not just any days,
but tuesdays and thursdays
two tough days to be a w***e

only in new orleans

can i be a tuesday w***e,
and a thursday w***e

i'm glad the bourbon bars
left their doors and windows open
i'm wearing my best, my tuesday best, and
i don't like the reek buried in the wood floor
or the tang stained on the toilet seat

i'm the weekday s**t, the tramp,
but i got limits to how far i fall

i sit by the window,
slide a finger up and down
my whiskey glass and i spread my legs
and put my goodies on display
put the bait on the hook

it's not a shopping mall or a strip mall
cause, tuesday's, the crowd's thin
but, it don't take much to reel 'em in

a chair across from me slides out
and a ugly, old bass sits down

i slip it off the hook and toss it back in
two whiskeys later, the chairs slides out again
and a googly-eyed rock cod plunks down
its wide mouth opens, just about to say something
i lean over and close it, and slip it off the hook
and it lumbers away

it's tuesday
and the night ain't young and neither am i
i watch as the last fish swims out of the bar
the last fish walks out of the quarter
and out of sight and i realize
it's tuesday, not friday
next one's mine