Casting a street light shadow,
he leans against a wall
in a street gone to sleep,
plucks a soft tune on an
old guitar, sings, and drinks
in the resonance of the night.
The notes are like echoes, ghosts, smoke in the air.
… meanwhile, across town…
Hunched over a cafe table,
on a serviette he sketches
the woman across the room.
In blue ink alone he catches
the gleam in her eye as she
dreams her own dreams.
He folds the picture under his cup just before he leaves.
… in another place…
He watches the people,
imagines their lives, talks
for them, creates histories,
drafts & redrafts poems
for them in his mind, but
never speaks a word.
In silence, the poems fall as tears from his eyes.
& art floats away
like love.
Published in ZineWest 2014, October 2014
Published in The Frequency of God, Close-Up Books (December, 2017)
