Tuesday 11/17/2009 01:00:00 AM

Subtle thieves. Play their magic tricks. On naked girls. And the clothes that no longer fit. She catches the bulb. Just before it breaks. Barely escaping the lamp. So much darkness to overcome. So many sidewalks still to pave. As she watches the cars pass. Her thoughts a mousetrap. Her lips the bait.

It's never over. We just forget why we came here. Why we had to leave. Old ugly trees shedding their bark. Squeaky swing sets. Toiling in the darkness. As I try on different skins.

Closets full of monsters never kept me awake. It's the empty spaces that frighten me.

The bricks are patient with their mortar. The trowel is confident in its wall. Everything else worries.

The dreams I have are always the same. Missing ladders as I try to reach the attic. The needles on the floor as I count the dimensions. Eleven. Maybe more. It doesn't matter. I've been to them all.

Nothing changes.

Or everything does. And I'm too lost to notice anymore.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2024. All Rights Reserved.