In the Doorway of an Unlit Evening
There are voices that might ask
"Shall we dance" while
you stand outside the pubs.
Cars flicker past like
obscure seraphs and
disappear.
On the streets
the apparition of tongues
kiss my ears.
As some pauper
I am doomed to
celebrate memories
rich as
the colorful screens
in fine theaters.
If I could hope to
catch a glimpse of
Fortune
and hold her in my eyes
while she stands under
the street lamp posts
donning a silver cigarette.
The lights mirrored
in shop windows
glow as the fires at camp
in the photographs
of the dying soldiers
who waited at the banks edge
while the waters licked
their feet like flame.
