softness shines
still moods in blue
and red, yet
the hours roll off the wall
slowly while inside this;
too fast in replay
anger stews insomniac
to staring while
self-intoxicated,
the artist with notions of
falling down stairs...
then reprieve.
waiting for the flood again
waiting, for tiny ears
to warm sandy cheeks,
and fairy dust.
lavendar and chamomile
steep cool vision in
confusion and warm
blood water
birthdays for southern mosquitoes
which cannot feed here
tonight.
waiting for that love to call me,
find me here, waiting
as she knows no number to call
no address to find;
waiting for her to pray
for that miracle then i guess.
iced coffee and warm
berry pastry steaks stare
tauntingly through northeastern
junk shop windows.
i walk the cavernous streets
of just another asphalt black
and tornadic sky grey downtown
that does not know my name.
would-be employers offering
in guardian-like tones of
reassurance..."take care"
who only hope this nobody will
return tomorrow. wondering,
for i have left my legacy in
some other skin and
scum-drenched downtown
pawn shop.
i hesitated, thought very little
(and as much as i could)
and threw the claim ticket
in the trash can.
then i drove away fast,
sniffeling, numb and
thinking about going fishing,
and rest.
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