PW (10/01/1970 / Webster, New Hampshire)

Union Street (1995r)

The desperate ones are out tonight,
and the monsters hunt for lack of thought.
The tribes are all gathered,
on the same strip of road,
to signal that summer is upon us.

The pimps, the users, the hookers and loosers
are all dancing to the tune of summer lore.
And the innocents are out,
looking for some freak.
While the sinners look,
for something unique.

But all are one,
and one is for all,
on a road called Union Street.

by Patrick Wescott

Comments (1)

but this poem does not say anything.