Ache

It roils hesitantly

Wincing

As the concrete undercurrent

Listlessly attempts to slow its

Progress.

An anemic frictional force

With a

Vague intent to cease the advances

Of this crinkled intruder.

The petulant wind

Speared through with shafts

Of moonlight

Disregarding the paltry whims

Of the inferior

Solidified tide

Imperiously excommunicates this aluminum

Aberration

This foreign pollutant.

Expediting its passage

Towards nothing

Driving it mercilessly

Condescendingly

Past the gaping grins of gutters

The fetid smell of their whispers

Banished by the gusts that govern

This tarmac.

The crumpled foil

Is forced from view

Leaving us to our lack

Of conversation.

The radio

Softly dividing the silence

Into tempos and tones

Transforms the wordless glances

Into something bearable.

A streetlamp

Eclipsing the moon

Illuminates where we sit

In silence

The engine still thrumming

A nervously beating heart

Fearing the worst.

You murmur trivialities

An attempt to eviscerate

The meaninglessness

From the air between us.

The backlit minute hand

Held above the buildings

Announces our allotted time to waste

Has been exhausted.

Rubber grips the dissatisfied kingdom

Below us.

These frozen waves of undulation

Support my journey home.

Dropped off like a delivery

My value not exceeding that which

 Necessitates a signature.

I glance down to my darker twin

Stretching blandly

From where I end

Born of the pallid reflection

Of sunlight

And I wonder

Is my own futility

My helpless, hapless journey

Observed with detached gratitude?

Have I filled a painful silence

While the winds of change

Buffet

Me and

Bend

Me to their will?

At least, then, something

Will have been

Accomplished.

Author's Note

This is my attempt to perfectly capture tonight.

Reviews

[Judy Ponceby]

Wonderful write Ben.

[L. Catherine]

I love it, its absolutely beautiful

[Poeticadia]

I love the way the scene focuses in on "Leaving us to our lack
Of conversation" as if your silence is the centre of everything at this moment. And then the heightened feeling that once this moment has passed it will all be over... and you are left to the evaluation of your own place in the universe. Excellent poem, well-crafted and perfectly expressed! 100/100

[Brad]

not an attempt, my new friend, you nailed it methinks