Farewell To Koko Cocktails

It’s been an amazing run. For the establishment, for TLRS, and for all of us. This reading would not exist were it not for Justin, Lori, and Chris. We are so sad to see them go, but hope that you will all join them again up the street at the future Hi-Lo Club on Polk. We’ll post a bulletin about its opening when that information becomes available. The last TLRS at Koko was a special night for all of us, and for those who would like to relive it the generous words of Nicole McFeely at Litseen encapsulate the end of an era for TLRS. There is video as well. The Tenderloin Reading Series will live on, at a to be decided new location. For now, we have once again been kindly invited to participate in the annual Litquake festival Litcrawl on Saturday October 15, 2011..details of that reading are to follow shortly. We have a very special holiday event planned for December, and more on that to come as well.

If you have been following our progress you’ll note that tenderloinreadingseries.com has continued to expand the content we regularly post; drawing on a number of now-regular contributors, as well as expanding the scope of Tenderlogues. Expect more of this as well. For now, here’s my fond farewell to the bar that started this all:

THE MAN WHO WOULD WAKE TOMMOROW

The man who would wake  tomorrow

Would arise tired and hungover

With a vigilant tingle of last night’s wine

In the space between his teeth.

The sun would enter

Through the curtains he would leave drawn open

Before going to sleep the previous night

And there would be a parade of garbage-men

In noisy vehicles following him

From the tail end of his dreams

Into the morning light.

There would be a late night he could vaguely

Remember with a woman he had known

So clearly, had sketched out a mental picture in the

The boozy fog of last call and now seeking to recollect

 

And there would be businessmen erect, walking power points

Next to street urchins erect and unsheathed at the 38 bus station

Waiting on the long L that winds from downtown towards the ocean

 

And he would pour his morning coffee

And he would top it off with whiskey

And he would watch, when there were

Birds that congregated in the eaves of the adjacent buildings

And would remark to himself on one thing or another

And at some point the crowd would disperse

And he would let his eyes traverse the messy amalgam of

The Tenderloin streets again.

 

If there was a summer it would start to be felt

In the streets on that day

The man who would wake up tomorrow would walk down

To Sing Sing and smoke cigarettes in the backroom

Watching Vietnamese talent shows and playing slot machines

And stubbing smoke butts into the leftovers of banh mi sandwhiches

And would take an ice coffee as thick as engine oil and feel it flutter

Down the chamber of his gullet as Ellis Street began to stink of human waste

And crack smoke and spilled liquor with brand names like college baseball teams

 

And he would wander the dollar stores

And stop to talk to women in doorways

Of single room hotels whom he would gladly take home

If it weren’t for the fact that

He has no idea what home is anymore

 

He would wander toward the edge of Union Square,

And the corporate portrait of the city would be enlarged

Long enough for him to grow weary of the tourists who also wandered around

Their heads all detached from their bodies

As though they were searching for a sign

From a place beyond the Cheesecake Factory.

 

And he would have stopped in the small grove called the Tenderloin National Forest

With a brown bag and the fading daylight and been content

With a day spent in precisely the way he pleased

And as the sun would go down he would remember some one

Who on the previous night seemed to know him so well

Starting at the Edinburgh Castle, to the Geary Club, to Frankies 21, Ha-ra

And ending where he would now return

To recall with the bartender last night’s avails

In the dim-lit corner of Koko Cocktails

And the bartender would remind him that all went well

That he remembered to tip

That she seemed like a nice girl

That he should consider calling her

If she had made that much of an impression

And all of this might have happened

Precisely in this manner

Were the man who would wake up tomorrow

Been able to stroll from the doors of his apartment

Up the corridor and into this room

One more time.

Advertisement