the blue horn

the blue horn
on
the black vinyl
in the cool night
with a tall
blonde
and a cold martini.
such is the life
we grow
into, or out of.
who counts the strikes,
it's the home
runs that matter.
i'm at the plate
as I listen
to the song, smoking
alone,
waiting patiently
for what's next,
the fast ball, a curve,
a slider.