Narrative

A Clean Hallucination 
The musty, mothball tavern, 
Held drunken men and waiting girls. 
Grime within their eyes spewing, 
From their bodies stinking. 
Another ale based jaunt, 
To bleed the lizard. 
When in a blink was spied, 
An entrance too pristine. 
Where in lay bed and lady, 
Travelled far and sleeping. 
Then... 
 That knock at the door, 
 Seeking a whore. 
Behold! No waiting wench, 
But a visionaries muse. 
Glowing with a cleanliness, 
The wild only knew. 
Before the glimpse was held, 
Intoxication took the mind. 
And dragged it to the floor, 
Outside and tossed away- 
Like grimy wash water. 
 Sept. 07 Sheena Allen