Saturday Night Ritual Poem by Charlotte Ballard

Saturday Night Ritual



Spangled beauties lean
Sideways on the bar,
Toasting to their own destruction,
While curs hidden in wolf clothing
Shuttled back and forth
Sniffing for easiest prey.
Little girls wade out between groping
Hands that reach out
Between waves of noxious
Music flooding out to be
Swallowed up by the hungry
Swaying fish.

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