Curmudgeon

I don't know why--but fuck tonight
And fuck this town
And fuck this guy that I'm becoming
And the steel ceilinged sky
     that never changes, night-to-night

And why, when streets all run together,
trickling off to asphalt seas,
     do nights out wandering get me nowhere?
Some elsewhere's
where I want to be.

I'll try to eat my plate of crow
and try to finish
though I'm full with midnight air
and half-cocked guesses
     and a frozen block of messes
 
Pull it off--that sky-steel-ceiling
Grinds a protest
Rusting clouds
     Might flake and rain an oxide winter
Flip the page up, one year down.