On a stained train seat—
image of a man kissing
his father’s tired head
Bathed in red sunset
the matchstick frames of houses—
bones of a swindle
No need to be scared
of the drinkers at the bar—
after all, they’re you
*
Sunny morning lot—
gull on a streetlamp still lit
a faint orange rose
Under the table
looking for my eyeglasses—
on top of my head!
Battery fading,
that old clock can’t tell the truth—
or is it truer?
*
What a sight to see
passing my gate this morning—
parade of turkeys!
The cat keeps going
in and out of the cottage
while I lay napping
In the twilit clouds
a bug-eyed space alien
grinning back at me
.
