my take on the bar scene of Queen St West in Toronto, from the perspective of a guy who ran booze cans, speakeasies and regular bars for quite a few years. after a while you begin to think you've seen it all. Of course you haven't

the animals started to gather
they've crawled inside to hide
from all things that await them
at the places they reside
the room is dark and musky
smoke dominates the air
roaches pass by shamelessly
you've got a ringside chair

the hordes amass by the fountain
piranhas at the trough
drowning all insecurity
inhibition all are lost
bland babble and nervous laughter
create a static din
bass and drum heart beating
the mating dance begins

peacocks strut
vultures circle
weasels lick their lips
flamingos pose
while bulls rampage
in her drink
the ostrich dips

pencil push becomes CEO
secretary
head of state
water boy is a quarterback now
the mechanic has it made

wannabees have arrived
artists full of fame
unemployed full time workers
no one gives their names

elixirs quicken
all the contacts
the carnal beasts insane
animal scent thick the air
it courses through their veins

through bleary eyes
pigs are beauties
pimples take on charm
disease infected
attract their suitors
oblivious to the harm

into the night
the trumped up depart
arm in arm
two by two
to a motel room
or on a park bench
the car back seat will do

flesh exposed
clothing ripped off
butter thrusted with a hot knife
pistons pound
while steam escapes
oiled engines roar to life
fan belts scream
cylinders burn
the throttles open wide
nuts are straining
the buzzers humming
fluids explode
into the night

parts collapse
and fall where they lay
the damage has been fun
faces meet
a smile is shared
the coupling is undone

cigarettes lit up
distance made
watches checked
for their time
excuses made
with half baked promise
they spout
their parting lines

to their shelters
they return now
their walk
a nervous stride
time to face up
to all things waiting
at the places they reside