Lonesome Neon Night Poem by Thomas Case

Angels with broken wings, frostbitten dreams,
morphine nights and gangrene schemes.

She had that broken glass sadness, the kind
that gets worse with every slammed
door and every lazy moon mad night.
The light in her eyes was dim, like a candle
in the fog, like a frog that dreams of flying,
but wakes up to the same old pond;
day after degrading day.

Man, every time I see her, I want to take
her home and give her a bath; feed her
strawberries and rub her feet.
I want to free her from the
rain slick suffering she's stuck in;
wash away the stench of
the lonely diesel strangers.

But I can't save her, hell I can't
even save myself, so I bum her a
Midnight Special, and light it for her,
with a brief sulfuric blaze of glory,
bereft of any lasting light.

Walk away, Jack-O-Lantern grin,
into the lonesome neon night.