Jake's Flea Market

i could have chosen to go
out to the hour in which the music stopped

where with only the instruments the stage was ignored

the hour undimmed   where with light   the bulbs
hung from the ceiling   and the bulbs backed
to the walls were filled

i never chose to go
out to the hour in which see through
mugs and glasses and bottles and tin
cans   some in part   full and some fully
empty on the bar and there and there and
there on tables sat abandoned

like the chairs the patrons of the hour had vacated
except the one at the bar on which someone sat
sipped the last call with his tab paid
delayed his following of the others out
of the hour through the door that wouldn’t open
from the other side