SUN, SUN, SUNNY DAY
They weren’t neat and they weren’t clean
only kind of stupid and pit bull mean
Fighting over drugs in that cheap hotel
right in the cross-hairs between heaven and hell.
She slammed the door and went on her way
he didn’t have the jam to make her stay.
He just didn’t fit in with her plan
she’d have to find herself another man.
She wasn’t having any of his bullshit jive
and he was useless to her dead or alive.
So he dove head first off the hotel sign
a five point five on the incoming lane.
He twitched amid his brains and gore
he couldn’t look up and check the score.
A cop tried to find a pulse
then gagged and said it was no use.
He was bagged and tagged and loaded into the old meat van.
Then they wailed him off never to be seen again.
No one in the crowd knew his name
he was just another loser who’d left the game.
She returned just before the sun that day
three tricks, three dicks, a fix, some pay.
She had some dreams from her junkies fit
but she really knew her life was shit.
The tag had just been tied to his toes
but she didn’t know or care.
She just wanted her tickets to the Rolling Stones
hidden in his room somewhere.
The blood ran across the road and into the drain
the fireman washed away the stain.
A tortured life disappeared that day,
Why, I really could not say.
No matter, the sun will still rise
and the rush hour is in its way
Just another dumb ass horror
for a sun, sun sunny day.
©Copyright November 21, 1989 by John-Ward Leighton
The Cecil Hotel, Vancouver: Photo ©Copyright 1989 by John-Ward Leighton
This poem inspired the response “Spring Beauty Thoughts” ©Copyright March 27, 2005 by Billy Willbond