Party Lights

my father

put a string of colored lights

on his balcony.

party lights.

at sixty-five

he was still drinking and smoking,

sleeping

with lipsticked floosies

in plastic pants.

his one bedroom apartment

was near the Navy Yard

in Little Creek.

a dive bar nearby,

lit up the sky with a sign

that read

Liver and Onions,

all week.

live music,

Friday and Saturday

night.

he could see the ships

from his

window,

the planes floating by,

hear the trains

on the track as everyone

but him

was leaving, getting

on with 

their life.