Solo's Bar

Glass-Eye comes in cursing
as usual.

Oily just grins
and flashes those teeth of his

and winks at Easy
who shakes her long hair
and turns away.

Outside a steamy wind sprays dust
and rocks boats.

No one braves the heat.

A stifling breeze limps
through the one open window

and becomes a part of sweat
and sweet scent
and a century of tobacco.

Easy smoothes her thin dress
down down from her breasts to her thighs
and sighs

and all the deadweight seconds and minutes and hours
add up to nothing much.


They Call Her Easy