Sunday, July 23, 2017

Last Night

Rattling, half-bleak, bar lights commence
The searching hearts find here rest
The brawling tongues wobble between
Falling stars, glasses and invectives
Through quasi-real sixteen drinks
In the desert of broken chairs and conversations
There is an apache plume, a super nova, a diamond heart
So gentle, fair and alive
But the sink, the brush and the routine
Get in your way:
She prefers to sing and you to dance
She likes to jump and you to run
Nay-sayers will always say it can't be done
This night I see her for the last time
In the reality of a slipping dream
Which, like her countenance
You long for it
                      - it disappears.