04-01-2013, 04:55 PM
free verse more or less concerned with the end of a night
Porch Lights
What of the last friend
to say goodbye?
When the sun has not yet risen
and feels to have set in some other time
And what of the desolate train stations?
When the bitter platforms
are wearily populated by a somber few
and the announcement painfully jests;
"Good morning."
When every can, sack and bottle
has been dripped dry
and the damage done
When the ash is on the table
because the tray went missing
who knows when
and the mess is the problem
of someone from tomorrow
What of the last cigarettes
being smoked through sorry lips?
When something like a cigarette
almost seems good for you
because eating one of the foods
could only serve
as a harsh reminder of reality
When tuning in with the present
isn't worth a dime
and reflection is a distant impossibility
And what of the front doors
clumsily opened and gently closed,
when the papers are being delivered
and the porch lights are turned off
and frail hands surround coffee cups
and cans of coca cola?
Well, when the victims of the night fall into their beds
they ought to realize that if they feel this terrible
they at least can't have been at work.
Porch Lights
What of the last friend
to say goodbye?
When the sun has not yet risen
and feels to have set in some other time
And what of the desolate train stations?
When the bitter platforms
are wearily populated by a somber few
and the announcement painfully jests;
"Good morning."
When every can, sack and bottle
has been dripped dry
and the damage done
When the ash is on the table
because the tray went missing
who knows when
and the mess is the problem
of someone from tomorrow
What of the last cigarettes
being smoked through sorry lips?
When something like a cigarette
almost seems good for you
because eating one of the foods
could only serve
as a harsh reminder of reality
When tuning in with the present
isn't worth a dime
and reflection is a distant impossibility
And what of the front doors
clumsily opened and gently closed,
when the papers are being delivered
and the porch lights are turned off
and frail hands surround coffee cups
and cans of coca cola?
Well, when the victims of the night fall into their beds
they ought to realize that if they feel this terrible
they at least can't have been at work.