Phone Rings Once, Cuts Short

Lump in the throat, hot
energy, more than bright
coffee running cold

between fingertips–
Something stirring, lost
nostalgia in a humid

memory of him,
now dispersed patches
of fuzz-droned noise.

Time isn’t suspended
but doesn’t feel
as tangible as a vision

of your blue eyes
crushed under a junkie’s
dream–Adios, mi amigo…
Pull another drag

against the wind,
concrete painted white
cracking against the days

without pressuring sun
beams, far dreams and time
un asesino lento.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s