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Richard Buckner
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Gang
Can you call it what you see
When you're reaching for the light
Found again before you leave
Holding back enough to try
Overheard talking down
From somewhere just above
To take you in then throw you out
When the open evenings come
Through the years you're due to spend
In the promise of the vice
Pouring shares to weathered friends
Ditching out at closing time
Caving in and trailing off
Will they find the fight to run?
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Doubled back until they've gone
Where the open evenings come
Shaking in the coldest hours
Kept just out of mind
Whispered where they wouldn't go
Tying off the broken lines
That sent you on as if to show
Something waiting in the night
Facing up and looking in
That you'd finally had too much
At last to be it won't begin
Until the open evenings come
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