another reluctant morning
greets me
with a detailed plan
of nothing.
the same implacable sun.
the same inexorable conscience.
hours stretched out
like a parched street dog.
nightly repose shall come
as always
at the very brink.
saving me
for another tautological day.
it is my fervent
and only hope
that some day
night will get caught up
in constellatory traffic.
or the charms
of an amorous dusk.
and get late.
not very.but just enough.
and reluctantly
lie awake
till dawn waltzes in
with more dreary nothing
to tell her
its all over.
No comments:
Post a Comment