A night in Bal'more

I still recall that autumn evening
when we picked up the drunk in your truck
at the liquor store, and he asked us
for a ride home from AA
and then for some beer.
We u-turned back to the dorms
and your finger slammed like an apple
in the basement door and we rushed you
to St. Agnes in our pajamas,
sat out front with the addicts for hours
throwing bottle caps in the birdbath.
Down Rt. 40 and Wilkens Ave.
the main drag road downtown,
Bal’more rose in sky scraping towers
and we were falling to the sidewalks
like beetles drawn in by the neon
blinking of three letters: BAR.