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
communication
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

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