There are moments of surrender,

There are moments of surrender,

The old man slumped over the table

Head in hands

Rheumy eyes, full of nostalgia

Counting the days

Seeing things no one else can.

A dirty wind blows through alleyways

With little cover

Other than a clutter of makeshift shelters

Where people who have aged more quickly

Than they need, waste away

Wishing they could find

Another high as good as the first one.

Foxes nuzzle through the rubbish

More at home in the town

Than in the country

As city slickers, chicken lickers

They dine on tasty bites.

Fast food cartons and broken needles

Try to look romantic in the moonlight

Lamplights are always dimmed

To preserve the scene.

A slimline doxy wearing old-fashioned nylons

With a seam running right up the back,

Not painted on

With mascara,

Climbed out of an expensive car

Pulling down her skirt

To cover the suspenders

And hide the scars.

Sometimes she finds it all too difficult

To muster any sympathy for life

There were so many

Moments of surrender,

She barely had the strength to carry on.

Until he came calling,

With his promise of something better,

She had enrolled in a nursing course.

It would have been her way out

Led to a brighter future

But she let it slide

When he took control

Of what she did and what she wore.

Now that she knew he would never

Leave his wife,

(She would always be invisible in his life)

All she really wanted to do

Was disappear,

To release the pain she held within

With one short, sharp cut

And in a moment of surrender

To the bleed,

Regain her focus

And misplaced locus, of control,

If only for a moment.