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The last night at Snow’s

March 27, 2011

it was always worth crossing the bridge

 

the lights and the bells

and the mirrors and the masks

the pinks and the blues, the shimmering silver

 

on the balcony for the last time

what became a familiar view

of the riverside turning incandescent as the night falls

to the rhythm of the floating life, the ferries and barges and dredges.

They will continue

but unobserved from this railing

it will be different

 

they dance swing to the blues

pushing tired feet against these wooden boards

because they won’t get these boards dusty again

 

the ghost of gigs past

in a place where each and every gig was a good one

(which is hard to say of many places)

 

the white shirt resplendent

his body willing but fatigued, the smile still as wide

it’s been a long few days

 

and then the announcement, for the last time:  out of beer

 

for the last time,

the lights and the bells

and the mirrors and the masks

the pinks and the blues, the shimmering silver

 

it was always worth crossing the bridge

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