When The Doors Open And The Lights Go On

Creaking, cracking when the wood
doth smack and the springs fail
again and again in pure dark.
Tiring, too late and reminiscing
in states where we lost our hearts
to a jukebox nailed to the floor.
Vulgarity is the utmost, raucous
endeavour and all we see is
a tunnel of night; too clever.
When the doors open and the
lights go on, a stiff breeze
is bashful and shaming.
The boards ‘neath bare feet
are pricking splinters only to
jab and jibe and remind us of life.