Water Tower.

Silent night- By the water tower- On the bleachers,

burning clips- Your hand grips, onto the cold, steel

post- The atmosphere, invites your ears- headphones

slip, fall to the floor- Muffled sounds, reverberate,

through little grids, on ribbed, silver boards- you

do not care, to stop the wine- you let it buzz.


The park is empty- you’re by yourself- And the town,

is not so safe, but you don’t care- you hardly mind-

It’s been so long, since you felt this strong and it

is not because you never were and, it has not much to

do with where you are- You used to be this- You just,

have not been, though, in a slow, slow while.


Ashes fall, when your fingers burn- it does not hurt-

You inhale deep, consume a gust, of fresh, brisk air,

and let it steam, out through the nostrils.


The sky is maroon, the clouds are purple- Out, in the

distance, where the Earth curves and you can see it-

a glowing light- just like a nightlight- plugged, into

somewhere, far away, casts a ray, of rose, pink drapes,

set right above, the baseball diamond.


You’re thinking back, on all the things, which used to

haunt you and, you have to gasp- though with a smile-

to react- because- simply that is, all that you can do.

And hey, who could blame you.


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