the roof leaks & the faucet drips.
after a sullen evening rain, they harmonize in a
vagrant duet of teardrop melodies. the gimpy
icebox knocks, adding tympany to the moody,
echoing blues.
 
sometimes when I’m sober, I make a half-ass
commitment to get all these arthritic maladies  
repaired, make this old house tenable for myself
& the whispering ghosts…
…or burn it down.
 
just beyond the front porch, the small animals,
chipmunks & rabbits, worry that this solitary man
will deplete the glories of their haven.
& the willows have a reason to weep.
 
when sunlight breaks thru the blemished glass in
the window, it smudges the wall with a crooked
rainbow. I embrace the elusive joy of it; it’s as
close as I’ll ever get to the flirt of gold.
 
(on a night when you’re in bed without a lover,
think of me for only a moment.
then sleep.)