Flippin coins under street lightsA Poem by The realestIt was a crowded room but then again.... it always is.
The smell of cheap cigars and even cheaper booze lingers.. up and down.
The type of place you could walk into decent and come out nickel and diming or worse.
Yeah there was always worse.
The two bit pimp that sends his girls in to work some poor yup looking to have a good time. the schmuck never knew what hit him.
Your old timers claming there section at the bar, looking for some fountain of life at the end of a bottle. its never there.
Poor b******s first in, last out
The dealer by the dimly limited phone booth the same booth you cant use cuz he has been waiting for a call for the past 5 years.
The place was crowded like it always was with every hooker two bit thug and wannabe badass west of the boarder.
and it stunk
My only comfort
The cold steel of my desert eagle inside my shoulder holster and the lovely look of stupidity when I pull the trigger
© 2008 The realestAuthor's Note
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4 Reviews Added on June 19, 2008 Last Updated on June 19, 2008 AuthorThe realestAntioch, CAAboutIm 24 from the bay area in ca Been writing for a while- Mostly free write stuff narrative potery or my real work is spoken word. Im also in the military and finishing my BA in Forensic Psyc right .. more..Writing
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