her story bare begun
quick tangled in the telling
twisted down the road
tired ‘ere her finish
~ ~ ~
Rails
click clack
click clack
river rising out my window
quick passes phones don’t ring and closed cafes
faster rumbles on trembling tracks
past rusty cranes and broken scaffolds
fucking thunder roaring in my head,
"Who will you be, why do you run, where will you go?"
click clack
click clack
happy porter staggers car to car
his stubby smoke-stained finger
prods and pokes me free of weary thoughts,
"Pleasant evening, your ticket, sir?"
"I haven’t one,
I’ll be off right here."
~ ~ ~
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.
~ ~ ~
Cold
ashes and wine
smoke and corks askew
in the tunnel dry of light
waiting for the train
~ ~ ~