A sort of poem. tell me what you think of it?

Question

this is more of a short story then a typical poem. tell me what you guys think?

it was 98 when I got lost. I found myself walking into a dark bar on Roosevelt with the name that welcomes the leftovers of life. Opening the black door a whiff of smoke, oldness , and depression took over me. four people visible in the bar.

the place was filled with black and white pictures of faces that had racist hope shine in their eyes in the 50's .

Bars around here were known to have connections with the mob and I found broken down old men in their that were looking into their endless bottles of lost greatness. The kind of people you look and wonder where they go to rest their head. If they even can. There was a woman there. With her cig dangling on the edge of her mouth ready to jump for there was no hope for her. She presented her self as if she was a streetwalker at sometime in her life and she wouldn't let go of the idea about the big come back.

Even though not one person talked to each other I felt very at home. Everything about the place made you wanna go run right out of it yet I came back. The same 8 songs played everyday their. It was the 80s rock band that when you herd the name of the band you got a sour taste in your mouth.

Maybe I liked the place because it was the exact opposite of where I would go. This was no night club or art gallery. Where you go to snort a little coke and socialize with the so-called hipsters. But could these people around me in the desolate bar be the real hipsters? Did these people know exactly what they were doing? Was this the real cool or was it just a sanctuary for the lowlifes that could not say anymore?

it was 98

Answer 1

You're correct, it's more of a story (prose) than a poem.  As a story, it's not bad; sort of a modern "Sam Spade" feel to it.  Trying turning it into a short story...it has promise.

...and keep writing