The Moon Pays Cash Money
In the back alleys and barroom brawls
Where everything happened I once thought real
One night a chimney puffed gray bricks
And the sad faces stared at the dart board
Pierced it every once in a while
Three men sat at a broken table
One in a cheap suit with torn pockets
One in what used to be a pea coat
One in soot stains and charcoal beard
They drank hard liquor in succession and grinned
It might have been pain but I think it was show
They were looking nowhere in particular
One winced and waved his hands and opened his mouh
And after a pause for effect said,
"There's a guy in my building playing anti-brain-waves.
They come out of his speakers at two in the morning.
It makes no sound but it wakes me up somehow."
There was a wait and then another man spoke
(This time I believe it was the one in the suit)
"There's a place in New Jersey with unlimited parking.
I drive out there each Sunday and have a look.
After a couple of hours I drive back home."
For a second I think the guy in the pea coat looked up
Then he caught himself, had some liquor, and grinned.
"My mother yelled at me often when I was young.
One day I stood in front of her with empty pockets.
She took a long look at her shoes and never yelled again."
Then the man with the soot or maybe the one in the suit
Put some money on the table, tied his shoe and left.
The other two sat for a few minutes more
Then followed suit, or soot, payed and got out.
I go back there now for a few hours each Sunday
Sit on a bar stool and think of my empty pockets
Then go back home and wake up at two in the morning.