the fat lady sing

i drove into the oldest part of my old town
and saw, sitting on an empty window sill,

the woman
with a fancy cigarette hanging from her hand
and inside her mouth a psychedelic pill.

she was the only girl on the entire block
with two legs kicking instead of twenty four,
a wind blowing papers which she wouldn't read
hard up against the bottom of her front door.

some cats played music in the middle of the street,
humming a southern spirituality tune.

one stray dog slept until he was done,
then began howling at the shadow of the moon;
his eyes red and two ears hanging way down low;
he started licking himself where he felt it hurt

and had no where better to go.

another mangy dog, stretching, went looking for his next meal

when a saloon exploded like a house of cards,

scattering Wanted: Dead or Alive Posters into the adjacent yards.

favorite loaded pistols were shooting at whisky bottles wobbling on the bar!

thru it all, nonchalantly sat the woman on an empty window sill,
waiting for me to get out of my damn car.

she was watching an elephant and a brown bear with balls
juggling coins in a game of pure chance.

while far down the old road marched a traveling band,
playing a sweet song of  adolescence romance.

young kids in blue jeans, tattered and with holes in the knees,

sang along without knowing the words,

several boys dangerously swaying from the few nearby trees.

behind the patched circus tent in an alley full of loose string,
a striking fat lady danced her weight inside the big top ring:

a crowd of local drifters were sitting around 

acting spellbound:

they had come to hear the fat lady sing.