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.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than
storiesspace.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
To link to this poem from your site - please use the following code:
<a href="https://www.storiesspace.com/stories/poetry/-on-canal-street-.aspx"> On Canal Street </a>