home away from home

we used to hang out at the bowling alley
on the weekends.
plunk quarters
into the juke box
and eat grilled cheese sandwiches
with cokes
at the counter.
there was an arcade there as well,
with the rattle
and ping of pin ball machines
going all day long.
duckpins and ten pins,
the boom of the balls against
the wooden pins,
the awful rented shoes, 

dusted with a powder
that made you sneeze.
there was a barber shop too,
with three chairs
and the Asian barbers in their
light blue jackets,

snipping away.
the place was blue with cigarette
smoke,
and the thin stench of beer.
there was always a strange group
of adults,
of hardened women 
in low cut sweaters with
bleached beehives, men with
darkened hair, slick as shoe polish,
wearing snake skin boots.
all of them seemed to be
up to something no good.
we steered clear.
but we loved the place. a home
away from home.
living large on two bucks, which
would last
the whole day.