"A Friday night on Main Street"
It's Friday night,
And it's almost ten,
So I've hit the dirty streets,
To meet with some friends.
I've left my car keys,
"Forgotten" my wallet,
And taken the Metro
To where Main Street begins.
I found them at "Deans,"
Up a floor and a half,
Smoking some Black Magic
In the elevator shaft.
My new best friend
Is about to perform,
But he's got stage fright,
As such is the norm,
On a Friday night,
On Main Street...
Before he starts playing,
He takes one last drink,
Then the music begins,
Before I can think.
When it's over, they're happy,
It was a nice crowd,
But now it's time to pack up,
And get the hell out.
So we left his guitar
In the bass player's car.
To go for a walk,
But we won't get too far,
Until we see shadows
And signs of life,
On a Friday night,
On Main Street...
They tilt from the corners,
And lean on the walls,
Their palms are held open,
Their gaze always falls.
They ask for a dollar,
Or something at all,
A smoke or a drink,
A simple phone call.
On Fridays like this,
I so often give thought,
To those unfortunate souls
Our "fair" city forgot,
In this land of the plenty,
They have nothing at all;
Just a lonely spot,
On Main Street...
"A Friday night on Main Street"
I wrote this poem in October 2010, not long after I met my mate. He would always play this battered old acoustic guitar onstage at a club called Deans in downtown Houston. He also used to have a permanent gig as a guitarist at an old metal club called the Engine Room. After awhile, I started going to see him play nearly every time... The photo of the clock tower represents the time we had together. And the time I've lost...
3 years ago
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