Urban Tale

ashes float on soft currents
down from my fourth floor window
back and forth, a seemingly gentle ebb and flow
oh to fall so gently


all week long I found solace in dim lighting and idle chatter
nice to know ye, how are you? and tell me what was your name again?
there was romance last night however,
casting light onto the body in front of the TV
a glow from the glass, flickering images, there is desire in advertising
but our only connection on this lonely but lovely night
is a channel number and a production of laughs and guffaws
I did not finish watching it


morning comes, walking by scraped alleys,
the smell of piss wafting out the entrance
warns that things could be much worse,
concrete smeared with gum, the gutters full of cigarette butts,
and last years leaves congeal in thick piles
unknowns sleep in the corners,
covering their bodies completely from the gazers passing by
I could use a blanket myself