Rear View Window

The dusk arrives like gossamer, nicotine clouds hang these words left unsaid

Thin blue ribbons pass the window and into the cool night air

Tapering delicately against the red brick

The sun is not quite done with the day

It hangs waiting, hoping not to miss a beat

The phone rings, but I don't move

I'm not in the mood to converse with these savages

I'm on my own private island

Smokestacks rise into the sky like giant cigars

Lazily drifting puffs in the night

Giant buildings float at the end of orange cranes,

Dancing puppets rising over the avenues

I return to this spectacle after a week of poisoned latitudes

My neck, back, legs ache with restlessness

Mouth paralyzed, no words left to speak, just take it in

My mind floats as the ice in my whiskey

There to dilute the experience

Languid noise muffled through the ethanol

Vulgar sirens snap me back from my evening stupor

Beauty of the world in these quiet moments

A lone flower in an empty fifth of whiskey in the kitchen

Can I bring back words? Shred the transcript

Quiet desperation

My books piled in the corner waiting for me, but not tonight

The bottle was loud with a slight seduction

What kind of man would I be to shut her out

Beauty is found in the most unusual places

Like flowers at the bottom of some abandoned well