the sunlight hangs suspended in cigarette smoke that
rises in contorted ribbons from crowded ashtrays.
an incandescent bulb glares cruelly, emitting no light, but deepening the shadows
your eyes hide in. I can't remember the color.
everything is worn out even the desperation is old.
shelter, whether made of skin or drywall, is no protection when what is trapped inside
is burned out, crushed and rank. life reduced to wading through the past. all the bottles drained for
the last taste of hope.
windows darken and I think your eyes are closed. breathing still, I let the day go.
there is a certain grace in the silent morning sun that I can almost feel
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