Smoking in a dark bar br Saroyan and me br Bottle half-empty, couldn’t be br half-full. br br The poetry of sad illusion br Finds its home in seedy joints, br The half-opened eyes of br Tight-bloused girls br High heels and lipstick br Skirts taunting above the knee, br The jiving beat of a jukebox br Playing oldies, br Pool sticks cracking cues br Solid to stripe behind the black. br br Bartender pours another br Shot. br br Inhale…Exhale… br There’s something cool about the rhythm br The track of breath from lip to lung br Makes us think, hidden in shadow br Somehow we’ve got a chance.