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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN#/ ISBN# issue/book “Night in the City” cc&d, v311 (the July 2021 issue) Order the 6"x9" paperback book:

Order this writing in the book What If the cc&d May-August 2021 magazine issues collection book		get the 426 page May-August 2021 cc&d magazine 6" x 9" ISBN# perfect-bound paperback book:

Somewhere in the Night

Alan Catlin

All the tables at the Hard Luck Café
have unbalanced legs and the all-weather
carpet has seen too many seasons,
so much spillage, no one knows what
color it might have been. Circulating
the air meant moving fetid remains
of poorly prepped for the Big Sleep bodies,
cadavers left in family crypts in exposed
coffins that developed aromas like spoiled
food left in walk-ins that lacked proper
coolant. The only people who could confuse
the Hard Luck with the Hard Rock Café,
were tripping their tits off college students
looking for high life after dark and an easy score.
All they found was a place so dank and
forbidding, light so low, even seeing eye
dogs could lose their way. In the gloom,
all the women looked as alluring as Grade B
movie stars, like the almost-made–it girls
looking for a role; all of them with the best
bodies, the best face lifts, money could buy.
The men were all midnight cowboys, in off
the rack suits, that would look better on
someone else, a few sizes smaller. Paid for
drinks with stolen credit cards, hoping against
all hope, one of them would not be declined.

On dim lit, solo acts only stage, strung out,
end of the line chanteuse sing in foreign
languages of endless nights, lost loves,
death in high heels and purses/shoulder
holsters, concealing serial numbers missing,
stolen guns. No one ever listens.

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