Tag Archives: October

Five bags on each arm They haltingly squeeze themselves Through the taxi’s door

Across the carpet Creeps a red wine rivulet Courtesy her cat

Golden rooftops wet Shadows dissolving sunset Hands in your pockets

Rain window-tapping Wind rattles weak tree branches Coffee steam curling

Behind a window Covered with butcher paper An empty storefront

So difficult to Brush my teeth, slip into bed Farewell to the day

She avoids the seat Where the wet umbrella was Resting just before

Awash in orange The pavement glows as the sun Sets after the rain

A portly man a Mound of dry cleaning and a Treacherous crosswalk

One of his shoes blocks The door, his face mashed into The bedroom carpet