In the Doorway of an Unlit Evening

There are voices that might ask

"Shall we dance" while

you stand outside the pubs.

Cars flicker past like

obscure seraphs and

disappear.

On the streets

the apparition of tongues

kiss my ears.

As some pauper

I am doomed to

celebrate memories

rich as

the colorful screens

in fine theaters.

If I could hope to

catch a glimpse of

Fortune

and hold her in my eyes

while she stands under

the street lamp posts

donning a silver cigarette.

The lights mirrored

in shop windows

glow as the fires at camp

in the photographs

of the dying soldiers

who waited at the banks edge

while the waters licked

their feet like flame.