Spa (Hot Springs) Poem by Alan Hickman

In the spa city of Hot Springs
Old maids sit in trolley cars
Up and down the busy streets
Young men strum on blue guitars

In the spa city of Hot Springs
Pilgrims gather at the sump
To fill their homely samovars
With rusty liquid from a pump

In the spa city of Hot Springs
Sidewalk touts hawk lemonade
In the park policemen wink
At winos on the promenade

In the spa city of Hot Springs
Artist hacks in residence
Paint the sun on velvet, black
For kings and former presidents

In the spa city of Hot Springs
Chinese men play dominos
In rooms where on another day
A tart pulls on her pantyhose

In the spa city of Hot Springs
Healing waters tip the pail
As ponies gather at the gate
To chase each other’s pony tail.