The Dark Journey of Cain

Life is a journey.

The street smells of vomit,

cheap wine.

My beat-up penny loafers

know the cracks,

like they know the lines

in my palm.

Neon flickers,

a siren whines.

I’ve carried the mark

for decades,

a thin scar across my soul.

The bar door opens,

my broken heaven.

Faces blur,

ice in glasses clink,

smoke curls.

I’m broke as a frog

with a busted leg.

I conned the bartender

into giving me a beer.

I should have been

my brother’s keeper.

The mirror behind the bottles

watches like a demented film director,

Tarantino on acid.

The jukebox knows

how things are gonna play out.

Some old w***e puts a quarter in,

a Tom Waits song comes on.

I take a big gulp of beer.

The night stretches.

I stretch with it.

I walk over to the w***e,

put my fedora on her head.

Tell her, if she buys me another beer,

I’ll love her

till the chickens

come home to roost.

She smacks me hard.

I tumble out,

street smells of rain and diesel.

Neon drips from slick asphalt.

My fedora is crooked.

The city hums with bums,

painted-up women,

and the rest of the lonely crowd

born into this,

just wanting a bite of the quince.

Families sit behind windows,

and cherish life.

Every alley holds a story

I don’t wanna hear.

I kick a can.

It rolls,

and falls

down an open manhole.

I think about jumping in.

Maybe it’s nicer down there.

I feel like I’m stuck

in a Steinbeck novel.

Nothing changes,

everything does.

Some old drunk told me one time:

the hardest part

of a long journey

is standing up,

and taking that first step.

Maybe I’ll go to an AA meeting

the fellas have been talking about

at the shelter.

This trip I’m on

keeps getting bleaker.

Reviews

[red93]

Hopefully this is a recollection from before yr current sobriety Thomas. Once again, you are delving in the depths, and you expose the dark and corrupt Heart of the American Dream with wonderful precision. Exceptional ✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

[Thomas W Case]

Thank you my friend. Much appreciated.

[Michael Sun Bear]

This plays out like an old New Wave black and white movie. We love these walks through the back alleys of your heart. Nicely done.

[Thomas W Case]

Thanks, my friend.

[John the Baptist]

Well, talk about the skids. Thomas, you can put us on boulevards of broken dreams better than anyone on the site. The characters introduced here, real or not, populate the skid rows of any urban area. Loved the reference to "Tarantino on acid."

[Thomas W Case]

Thank you, my friend. I appreciate it.

[Soren]

Some might call this a rough life others hell it smacks of life in the trenches and trenches that are full of cold rain and mud. As gritty as it gets. Nicely done Thomas

[Thomas W Case]

Thank you. Much appreciated.

[Soren]

You are most welcome Thomas

[ETERNITY]

Thomas W Case, I started my day reading Sometimes You Wait (again). I pry myself away from the words, vulva and orchid, and I realize the author has been to Hell and back. Kinda like me! Great write as always

[Thomas W Case]

You are wonderful.