Faithful

Smoke cloud mixers, Bud and whisky

guitar men coaxing dirt road tunes

while cocktail bribes and leering eyes

and two-step guys test her favor.

But it ain’t here I’ll be steppin’ cause

what’s in these pants don’t give a damn

so I’ll be heading home to do my dancing

to those bluesy moonlight rhythms of you.

              ~ ~ ~

Stark

only the red bricks are missing

Sam’s Bakery caught fire when it rained

the graveyard is closed Monday

London Bridge fell down

the Metro doesn’t run here

sunrise comes but once a day

Retribute

She rode the tracks

From San Francisco to Old EP

Reluctant went the while beside him.

She damned him and damned me,

And lo when came the final station

Twas her most damned of all.

Murky

The avenue beats a discordant symphony.

Street lamps circle dim around the moths.

Terriers strut tethered taut to widows’ wrists.

Teamsters haul their loads up to the docks.

Far off sirens race beneath an ash-filled sky.

Jane packs up her empty can and pleading signs,

Warms her suckling daughter at her breast

And wheels her stroller to the bridge.

                        ~ ~ ~