a stringy collar button stalks its owner,
slaps its ivory roundness into a shoulder;

time and again

hungover, he walks through another Tuedsay
his mind echoes with the b-bs of memories.

firmly on fuzz

he sees no one, hears only mary catherine's
empty ghosts and they explore his queries.

he forgets the question.

circling the drain of his mind's eye
he sees a family, home, a dog;

fading white house, picket fence.


an air from the coast of anguish and want
blows over his shoulder, no vacancy sign

hung-out; despair take another train.

lurching down another no-name street
he sees concrete under his sore feet.

passers-by's heart made of the same.

05/21/2008

Posted on 05/21/2008
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan