Merlotte's after dark

Merlotte's after hours.
Regular barflies flitted home.
Smudged doorknob locked shut.
Moon rise.
She stops to listen to the quiet, peaceful silence...
except for
the buzzing of neon signs in the night,
the chirping of bayou critters delight,
the rocking of a shapeshifter’s dumpy old trailer,
the clinking of empties in a filled-up bar dumpster,
the whining of semis en route to Shreveport,
the slicing of water as ‘gators swim north
the whispering of wind through moss-covered branches,
the squealing of possum in she-witches cages
the pulsing of music--Eric’s vampire lair,
the screeching of vampires, coffined in fire,
the darting of batwings in parking lot lights,
the winking of blood moon on dark sultry nights,
the thudding of naked men’s feet on the ground,
the charging of wild wolves who trail them like hounds,
the sobbing of a buffed young man, trouble advancing,
the whirring of camera on a gold-thonged man dancing,
the purring of grey cat at the old Stackhouse place,
the moaning of hu-vamp love in old Compton’s house,
and the stroking of gold hair in the afterglow,
the stroking of gold hair in the afterglow.

She closes her eyes and poof!
like a usual suspect,
she's gone.....

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