the barmaid and the poet

For mikimoondancer's Bukowski/Dylan thread: http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/forum/competitions/read/6969/

clowns and jokers
trash this dead-end bar, while i stare
at a glass of whiskey
and picture the barmaid's ass in my bed.

she reads petrarch and thinks she's dickinson.
she's not. but her ass
plays hide-and-seek with the lights
in this no-hope saloon,
hiding as she stands beside the jukebox,
seeking as she walks across the floor:
those perfect cans dappled with neon,

like a glimpse of nirvana in despair.