Hess

I wrote this sitting on the steps of a defunct bar in Hess Village last night. Security eyed me suspiciously and the throng wondered why I didn't join in. All around me the Hummers roared and the Harleys pumped out death in response. The lights and beautiful people were blinding in their white glare. The booze flowed and my pen was hot on its heels:

Cacophony, the tills ring.
The long legs rattle,
To the sound of idling Hummers.
The bass rumbles back,
Look at me, look at my things.
I can see them in middle age;
Will they remember these nights,
Blurry, stumbling, intoxicating?
The pinnacle of their lives,
On the edge of annihilation.