Glimpse From My Youth Poem by Dorthe Wisbech Clausen

In the glow of my last cig
under the bridge of the City
with Dirty Jan and Red Booth Connie,
we share the last Daniels
and cough the last laughs
with a pathetic sound
that sounds like the schwoish
of the rats who know the same bridge as we
and, Baby, yes you, I met at the bar
remember I promised you
the golden woods,
well just for your info, I usually do,
when the music is jamming and the booze
running down, and the heat of the night is
at it's hight,
I just thought I owed you these words of honor
till we meet again down the bar at Bill's
next night when the twilight is grooming in,
I'll be meeting you there, with my golden woods