Untitled

corners of
aged lime face men
lumberjack backs
of flannel dirges

puffing cobalt smoke
onward to finer points
in the endless troposphere
of small talk

their faces are red
frivolity shone
to where their fathers

grabbed his pockets
debunked this funk

of bar stool
drunk at the Legion

as the coral moon
sifted his nurse-like
fingers through your
grains of hair

you hear steps of spitfire
alley ways
smug toads
crickets louder than sleep
louder

than autumn chatter box
nighttime
times ahead.