I search for you, for your short red dress that paints you

on bar walls and in pool halls. I search for your essence,

your scented womanhood that screams out your name,

calling me to come and get you. I cunningly plot our union.

I gravitate toward you like a lizard scenting food on its tongue,

gravitating toward your sensual body with all its sweet

and sour juices. I lurk and jerk like a cool lizard out of the dark,

coming out to the dance floor to groove, to do the mating dance,

waving my colors, trying to attract your attention.



I am the master of my own illusions when the lights are dim.

I made my true self invisible, pretending to be someone else,

pretending to breathe the bar smoke. I take on a new European

personality, sipping European wine, trying to attract young girls.



In reality, the nights are grinding me. The bar life is

wearing me down, dragging me on the long drudging road

up the mountain of life with sweat, blood, and tears. Father Time

mercilessly keeps on slicing away at my youth and fertility.



But for now, the lights are dimmed, the air is filled with smoke,

and the people are intoxicated. Soon a new day will come,

the sunlight will appear again, and I will disappear into

my lizard hole to live as a normal professional worker.