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On Canal Street

Tags: club, sin, memory

Club Kitty on Canal Street is no more,

The booth, where once a bottle blonde sat poised

To grab your five, at the clanking turnstile, 

Lies dark and locked and manacled with chains.

And poster frames that screamed of promised sin

Now hang like empty sacs, their contents spilled,

While strung apart, like stars, the ghosts of men

Undress the sunkissed girls like future wives.

 

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