Tuesday, May 10, 2011


Things are different now
in this decrepit little house
wedged between a chop shop and a promiscuous alley
There are no familiar smells of home
only the stench of filth and decay
The bars on the windows, 
remind me I can no longer be naive about the world
The tall cement walls 
make me feel more like a prisoner than an inhabitant 
And yet I am content 
to curl up in a chair and stare out the window 
past the dirt stained screen and the power lines 
over the wall and up at the night sky
The sky is my muse
allowing for endless possibility 

I wanted nothing more than to watch the fireworks
Not from a fancy place
or a crowded park among strangers, 
Sitting on the roof would have sufficed
sipping cheap wine out of a paper cup 
and feeling like it was just you and I
Rooftop rebels

You missed them all
the white ones 
that start in a screech and end in a flash
The purple and red 
that make no noise at all then suddenly appear before your eyes
like a  burlesque  dancer 
revealing just enough to keep you interested
The green ones that fizz out slowly 
and the blue ones that circle, leaving a dusty trail
The ones that glitter like stars
And the finale that makes you sit on the edge of your seat
A fantastic array of light
each one more beautiful than the next, 
as if to outdo one another

The sky goes dark 
No longer filled with popping lights
or distant crackles and booms
I sit in silence
With no one to lean on
Or smell the dab of perfume 
I placed on the back of my neck
The end of a miraculous show
And I have never felt so lonely

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