Sitting on an Old wooden porch Late at Night in the Heartland of America..
On a dark side street with the street lamps throwing shadows
of bushes waving on the front of the house
below the picture windows
Everyone asleep
Distant sound of sleepy ghost trains
ghost rider motorcycle revs
the hiss of highway wheels
and 18 wheelers dropping gears
and I remember my Grandmother’s hands
and I don’t recognize my Life anymore
without them
in
it.
My Daddy done dead and gone
and I sit here in these dark shadows
Alone on the porch
no friends, no lover, no pets, no kidding.
Nothing but Death marching towards me
this gentle balmy breeze and the incessant
repetition of night time insect hymnals
intertwining with
Motor Hymns
Not a soul around to make words with
Just me
by Electronic Candle Light
Breathing this soft black summer Air
After all the Loved Ones have left the planet
Surrounded by dead dogs, cat ashes, delapitated photo albums of the magic years that have all but been
murdered off.
I don’t cry
I don’t text
I don’t reach out
I don’t panic
I don’t bother to burn for Another…
I light another cigarette and I wait for whatever
with my long hair waving in the dead of night summer breeze
that feels much like it did when everyone was alive
so many Summers Ago…
My Shotgun
My Quiet Pessimism
My Whisky glass leaning into Midnight…
I’d call one of my few best friends
but All 3 are dead
So I sit here in these dancing dark night shadows
unafraid to blend in
Sometimes you become
1
with the
Night.