Evening Tide

Evening Tide

Nine o’clock,
And the wind hushes lonely, night owl, men
On some side street a cat cries
and a baby.

A lonely lady,
Lures rock old men on the street corner.
You are lifted to this part of the city
By images long formed in your mind
Of lights
and lives
snuffed in candle flames of death.

Here you await
the last stench of factory breath
and prepare your night eyes for the hope
of human contact.

You walk,
with hands in your pockets
panting memorized vacant lines
panted a thousand times under other stars.

Love?
Money is exchanged
and you enter the long dried imp
Continue life as it began
Alone.