East End, Where The Toughs Hang Out Poem by Evelyn Judy Buehler

If you want to find out what it's all about,
Go to East End, where the toughs hang out;
Where street-smart girls, their skirts unfurled-
Through the wicked streets whirl.

Nights down there-always stark,
Hipcats smiling in the dark;
And the sun shines down through all the days-
Down on wayward ways!

Dead flowers lie in the street,
As people run from the heat.
Rose tattoo and butterfly;
Ruby lips; mascara eye.

Motorcycles in the mist,
Flashing lights; clenched fist;
They move as if in a craze,
Through the city's maze.

In the streets and alleyways, they clash,
Seasons change with a splash,
But, warriors ever, ever advance-
Though they haven't a chance!

If you want to find out what it's all about,
Go to East End, where the toughs hang out;
In leather pant, and faded jean-
It's noplace, if you get what I mean.