United

A crowded club, the patrons flit about, drinking and dancing,
The mid-night customers are the young, the drunk and the lonely.
In their own worlds, they wallow in their drinks.

Some dance their problems away, on the floor, a tango,
Twirling and stomping to the beats, opposite their radiantly dressed partners.
Others sit at the bar, surrounded by a semi-circle of cups, mugs and shot glasses,
Happy, for just a moment to have escaped their boring lives.
The remaining, sit, drink in hand telling their life stories to anyone who will listen,
And when there is no one left, they talk to barstools, sidewalks and lamp posts.

The night time wanderers, their homes finally found behind the heavy wooden doors on South Street,
In the never ending fountain of liquors, where they drink to escape.