Lost

I’ve lost my job. I’ve lost my home. I’ve lost the girl I love. I’ve lost the skin on my left hand. I’ve lost my center fielder. I’ve lost my ability to feel. I've lost the will to care. I went to the 24-hour, 365-day-a-year diner tonight. It was closed. My boots made a scruff-click echo sound on Monmouth Street. I bought a day-old NY Times just to have something to read. The Puerto Rican girls hanging at the 7-11 liked my fair hair. The way they touched it made me like their perfume. I’m happy to be alive for some reason. I don’t know why. If anyone knows, please give me a clue. Cause it wasn't out on the streets of Red Bank tonight. I looked hard and it wasn't there.