Who lives in this place? This habitat of waste Eyes closed, I turn away So that it might not be Who lives in this place? This corridor of discarded lives Head down, I pretend not to see So that I might not be Another righteous hypocrite Who walks the other way Arms tucked close I […]

Tense from fatigue and frustration, The poet’s hand tightens around his favorite pen Outside the blustery winter storm prevents any hope Of a double espresso Or another conversation with the pretty barista He thinks of her pleasant smile And naïve innocence Reminding him of his young wife His grip tightens at the inevitable reference That […]