Dark Skies

Rain pours
on the roof
as another day
passes by.
The moon
hangs above
like a lonely orb;
wind howls
through the city.
I picture
drunks
lined up
at downtown bars.
They are all
numbing
the pain away.
The television
is on:
it's the dull sound
of nothing.
I wonder
where you are,
and if you are
sad tonight
as I smoke
a Pall Mall
and stare
into a
jet black sky.

Gone, But Not Forgotten

She climbs out
of her car
in front of Walgreens:
an old woman
wearing sunglasses.
Her hair
is a mess,
her skin is like
tight brown
leather.


A Virginia Slim
dangles from
her lips as she
slams the door.


This is a tired town
full of tired people.


I bet she was
a real beauty
at one time;
I can picture her,
twenty years old,
turning heads
on a beach
in Miami.


But that was
a long time ago,
and now,
she smirks at me
as she wanders into
the liquor store
at noon
on a sunny
Florida day.

Vandals in the Night

Two American boys
walking through the suburbs,
drunk,
stare into lit windows.


The ground is covered in snow;
a cold wind blows over the city.
They pass a bottle of vodka
back and forth.


One picks a brick off the ground,
finds a window
and throws it.
There is a loud smash.


They run away,
laughing.


Later that night,
they are both back in bed.
Snow has stopped falling:
the city is dead quiet.


Outside, frost covers
the old buildings and factories.
There is a peace;
Christmas is on the way.