Whiskey Fire

summer moon swinging low with splendid whiskey fire
alighting the dark shapes that crawl in the muck
irradiated, loveless they croon
back alley ballads lit up like a megaton nightlight
far off laughs syncopate and twist in the sweat
but we blew the top off those soviet ghosts long ago
picturesque manneqins barbecuing in the dumpster out back

still summer nights always have the end times in their hearts
it ain't the band but it whistles the tune
a lovebird in the swing of your heart
it's the undercurrent you don't see until you do
a head underwater
the meat we char
the corn we thresh
not you and I but you see my motion

we tumble low and stumble through the well drinks
the horn man licks his chapped raw lips
unseen, it does not doodle on his jazz silhouette