out from the glass coffin
of my skull,
Snow White, I wish I could sleep
as peacefully as you
waking from a nap
to sunshine and
Frank Sinatra singing,
“The Sunny Side
of the Street”
dreams
stuck to the pavement
like melted ice cream
your words
a gathering of flies
astrologer-poets
argue about stars,
Orion and his hounds
continue across
the winter sky
ladled out of
mother’s womb,
I continue to
splatter and spill
this life of mine
the motorcycle riders
didn’t stay long,
a cigarette or two
and they were
gone again
it was
the kind of moon
that called for
train whistles,
but gave only memories
so many windows
on yesterday,
but none
that see into
tomorrow
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