Dim Lights By George Gad Economou

nothing beats a dim lit joint, a dive criminals and lowlifes frequent;

you hear the best tales, you meet the most interesting people populating

an otherwise dull and dry world. and, sometimes, you find love hiding

in some worn-out booth, between vomit and blood stains on walls and floors.

it was in a dim lit dive I met her, and in a dive I forgot her.

most in there were looking for a fight; I wasn’t, but never backed out

of a challenge. not even blades glistening under the orange streetlamp 

scared me off; being suicidal helps immensely. 

didn’t take long to be left alone, angry lowlifes attacked other newcomers

and I just hunkered down on my stool, gulping down gin and tonics and beer,

and bourbon and tequila, and whatever horrid concoctions the bartenders

threw at me.

next time you walk by a flashing neon sign, with a name as uninspiring as

DAN’S BAR, walk in. you might never come back out, alive,

but it’s alright. if you do, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

George Gad Economou has a Master’s degree in Philosophy of Science, currently works as a freelance writer, and has published three novels and two poetry collections, with the latest being his horror novel, The Lair of Sinful Angels (Translucent Eyes Press). His words have also appeared in Spillwords Press, Ariel Chart, Cajun Mutt Press, Fixator Press, Horror Sleaze Trash, Outcast Press, The Piker Press, The Beatnik Cowboy, The Rye Whiskey Review, and Modern Drunkard Magazine.