Evening Interlude
Time to Leave
--
11:57 P.M.
My feet are snug and cramped
in my tattered boots, hands
clasped around a scalding mug of coffee
and sardined beside Mickey on the leather couch
overlooking Como near midnight
He gushes, slim fingers limber
to embody the thrill of a guitar
to BK and Alvin, discussing the
eternal conflict of creative passion
and lucrative occupation
“Do you
love what you do
or fall
in love with it first?”
the caffeine accelerates
through my bloodstream
the thunderous flow
overwhelms the night breeze
yet
I hear the wordless
the beating of tenuous wings
the scratch of pen against paper
I recognize an ecstasy I’ve searched for years
scrawled and surveyed
amongst the stars
breathless, hypnotized
by the indistinct land beyond the sphere
poised, eager
to consume the guileless, early morning
time to leave
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