"Temptation..." gargles through the jukebox speakers
in a way that could make only Tom Waits sound clear
The dark wood beams and brick of the bar peek
into the bright lantern lit dining room
where families absorbed in their good life ignore
the eyeballs rolling around the floor,
peeking up the skirts of girls
who choose to still not know better
and into the hearts of the weak-willed,
finding the easiest dinner catch,
and striking bravado in the the inflated chests
of men without a bone in their bodies
The eels swim around each other
throwing stinkeye and squinty sidewinder eyes
and raising antenna of an ear for an opening
Tired professors refute every drunken argument
with the casual wave of a suggestion for a better research model
and the desperate boost up their fading confidence
with continual reminders of
the joy of hedonistic debauchery
so they can ignore their desperation
If only a fool knows what temptation is
the rest of us, well we hope that's us,
sit in it, admiring its views,
caressed by its contradictions
Having given ourselves over to it
in body, while mind and soul were
on a smoke break together
we've come to know that its draw
has much more to feed us
than its fulfillment
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