poem: indifferent waitresses

11 Dec

indifferent waitresses

back in the City

wandering streets

rolling hills
homeless hands
indifferent witnesses
and waitresses
a bartender wipes a glass
30 years on the line

it’s cold December
nearly winter
according to a calendar call
hangs on the wall
rummage through
think a linear line
not a specialty
when trees hold bare branches

a church bell sounds clear

walk up hilltops
past tourists
and lazing civilians
breath holds a cloud
hands tremble
little birds beg for crumbs of our sourdough bread
purge the mind it’s hominy

eyes taste light as light
slowly begins to emerge


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: