red ink

drifts of paper and envelopes, the apartment is a mess, old grudges rise like bile.
Sunlight on pavement, plastic bags rustling, newspapers curling with age.

The car weaves through midnight traffic,
shoals of heavy-lidded drivers and their big gulp mugs,
morbid yellow streetlights glancing off the windshield,
stoplights punctuating the deep dark.

take away this place.

slip off your shoes.

sink your feet into the carpet.

i'm lost in the shine of bicycle spokes, the crease of manila envelopes,
the tint of red ink.
flowers tied with string, chipped cinderblocks, goosebumps in the cold.

get while the getting's good.

nothing to it just to do it.

get some rest. come back soon.

1 comment:

JJ-Wan Kenobi said...

Ooh...VERY Leonard Cohen.

Just throw in some references to Montreal, drinking wine with dead lovers and the following phrase "I have seen the future buddy, and it is murder..." and it'll be complete!