Drinking At House
Parties
When the evening shatters and the
stars appear, dotting their pointillist
refusal in the grease-paint cloak
of airless expanse, narrow and
fading as long-drawn hopes,
And you lose yourself in hasty strums of
bluesmen's bluster, pungent pitter-patter
of Blackberry keys and notifier chimes,
spare there some little piece for me, as
I get there too in rum glass rings,
stains in dead oak tabletop,
criss-crossed water-kisses on granite.
No comments:
Post a Comment