LAST ONE LEAVING

Last one leaving, first one alive
Chair legs up and the moon outside
If the whole room quits, I'll carry the light
Last one leaving tonight

Bartender wiping down table sixteen
Sweeping up glitter and torn-up receipts
Band packed cables in a van out back
One red EXIT and a room gone black
I sat with the owner by the register drawer
He said, “Thirty-one years — maybe one night more”
Landlord raised what the weekends couldn't
Whole town loved it, but love hadn't booked it
Walls held birthdays, wakes and vows
First slow dances and last-call rows
He reached for the switch with his left hand shaking
I said, “Give me the keys before you close what made us”

One more night
One more try
Some rooms close
If nobody fights

Last one leaving, first one alive
Chair legs up and the moon outside
If the whole room quits, I'll carry the light
Last one leaving tonight

By Tuesday morning, we painted the wall
June booked weddings, Ray booked the hall
Local band took half at the door
Cook sold breakfast from two till four
We called old names from the pictures inside
Every generation showed up that night
Owner stood watching by table sixteen
Same damp eyes, but a different meaning
Somebody has to believe past sense
Somebody has to climb that fence
The last one leaving isn't left behind
Sometimes he's guarding tomorrow's first light

I wasn't afraid
of being the last one there.
I was afraid nobody would return
if I turned off the light.

Last ones leaving, first ones alive
Chair legs down and the doors open wide
When the whole town came, we carried the light
Nobody's leaving tonight

Open.