Last Call

Days skipped away
a kid chucking stones across water,
happy years gone the way of youth;
moved from farm to town
and on down the street
to city lights and cheap hotels,
dark dives
where it was safest to sit
back to wall
until the barmaid
made her customary last call,
then drink up
to another night’s end,
pick yourself up
stumble out the door
and on down the street
to a two dollar room
and tomorrow began again—
you become a stone
that skips across days in lonely dives
until life makes
its customary last call…