Poetry : Kristofer Collins
The Last Call
for AnnaYou strolled through the open doorways of bars in Polish Hill
If you take the bridge you end up in Oakland or possibly the hereafter
It gets harder to tell the difference the more time we stay here
Tell me again about the stairways that are actually streets
Show me the illegal magic of a left turn
Let’s break up this machine on the Blue Belt & leave our clothes buried under the new snow
Have you been waiting as long as I have for the moon to bleed its gold all over Bloomfield
If we’re careful of the ice I think we can make it across the BBT parking lot alive
Or we could spend the whole night trying to get Jocko to eat pretzels from your open hand in Howler’s
Margaret is at Lou’s tonight, or did she say The Pleasure Bar, well certainly it wasn’t Silky’s
Anyway, let’s find her before she elopes with the bartender unless that will soften our tab
I suppose there are better ways to pass an evening than taking on the taps in a thousand bars
But none of it would be as blessed
Perhaps it’s the church in me rising from out of my skin but the low lights and cigarette smoke could be vespers and incense
Tell me, what choir could be holier than the jukebox at Gooski’s
Kristofer Collins is the managing editor of The New Yinzer, an occasional book reviewer for The Post Gazette, and owner of Desolation Row CDs. He is the author of the poetry collections King Everything, The Book of Names, and most recently, The Liturgy of Streets.
