Thursday, December 17, 2009

Train Station Gitanes

Winter comes to quiet the crying Fall
turning evergreens into static brides
exposing the naked twigs
on the desert of blue

Cold crawls on my bed
like the dwelling phantom
of a wondering cadaver
as I bite the edge of the blanket
wondering where you are
and where I am
and write myself to sleep

Morning comes to chase the night away
swift sunbeams, fiery katana swords
slice its essence, as it bleeds in yellow and orange
and you're not here

Blood, coffee, rushing to my head (I can't tell them apart anymore)
hot water on my face
the decrepit piano of my body
stumbles from the bedroom to the bathroom
from the kitchen to hell

Maybe I'm just a picture in the photo album
corner of your scrapbook
napkin with a phone number tattoo

maybe you think I'll be waiting
like mortals wait for death
I know you think I missed my train
and I did
but I belong to somebody else