Backlight

Drinking in an evening
while sipping down a year as a day's ending.
With sun setting, keep repeating
          old retreats.
The streets freezing and specters easing
     from exhaust pipes
speak of an emptying, of fatigue, of a face framed
          in memories
of arguments, apologies, in-jokes and glass nights'
          frost-embossed panes--
     of walks down roads well salted
     of adding salt to stir-fry curries to season

Which?
--Not Spring, just yet.
Who cares?
--Well, me!
I'm drinking in an evening
Sipping. Gazing out southwestward.
I trace with soft eyes a solid skyline.
See the Bighorns' darkened profile,
     backlit with bright fading
hinting, half-telling
          stories
          promises
       half       making
that they'll still be there, tomorrow.

I met those mountains long ago--
     I've known them my whole life,
     you've only seen them.
I met them long before you,
but they remind me of you
and that's not fair.

Sheets

I'll write and say same words I've said
     ten thousand times before
Until I don't believe
     that I believe them anymore
Because riding on this carousel
means spinning one's wheels
into moist ground
     thought I had some traction
     but it seems I thought too soon--

So I am off of the rails
Off the wagon. Off to nowhere.
'Cuz it's, "Onward, lads,
to one more night spent
covering ground's familiar footsteps
and sheeting snowy sidewalks
in the dollars we don't have."

And we'll lay 'em kinda thick
     press our prints in Presidents
pro bono comes advice
from the corners we can't heed,
but por argento comes the cure
we choose to kill our heads with

I'll pick a place, polish my boots
     get far as my front steps
where I'll sit until the summer rolls around
     and sweat rolls down in sheets

Short sheeted best hopes,
shortened thank-you notes
and lists of shitty quotes
lay around and resonate
on floors and facebooks,
tabletops
in summertime,
          when it rolls around

But, now, it's winter
and we're all 364 1/4 resolutions older
     --at 33 resolutions per minute,
     and 16 ounces at a time,
     we can almost cope.

Now, it's winter and the sheets are
          still too warm

Now, it's winter and we sheet the
          snowy sidewalks
in Presidential faces
in the dollars we don't have
and the cure we kill our heads with
keeps us safely insane
'Cuz in a world built by psychopaths,
the sane don't always last.
And, if I'm the last one out?

I'll sing a song and kill the lights before I go.

Canby & Olive

Summers just stifle
then they drift off into winters
and the difference ain't so great
     anymore anyway.
And when another year passes
out its half-sketched glances,
missed chances dry out in the corners of eyes

And it's a day for waking
                           late
A season paid
                          off
pitched to poets
Hours served up to opponents--
Parched or freezing--
     fuck it
when you're all dried out and heaving,
lost on Olive, barely breathing,
sprint straight out of Hell and nick some whiskey.
Then complete the cold walk home.

4:50 pm

Sun set before five
we were laughing loud at starlight
          We just
let our frosty voices drift up,
break upon the moonlight's
                       streaking skies

Aware my time's up...
You wear your life stitched on your sleeves

Midnight chimes shattered on winter nights
and fell back on the skyline that we shared

Time is up, the wine's all drunk
Stains map out the story over miles
With borders crossed
and chapters done
We'll fold it up, tattoo the legend on our backs

Ground begins to thaw
March will knock all of this ice off
          so just
try to stay dry, keep your chin high
just float until the flood
                            decides to pass

When summer dries up...
You'll wear the story on short sleeves

Midnight chimes call back the winter nights
and outline those same skylines we once shared.

Springtime's up, winter wine's drunk
Map is stained with purple markered miles
Borders erased
and chapters closed
It's folded up, we bear the legend on our backs.

This is My Lucky Suitcase

Now pack your luck up in handbags
hurry hard through your back door
                      These nights
Are colder than they ever were
dousing fires on 13th floors
When flame-lit streets frost over,
you can see a little more,
and the dancing sidewalk shadows let you pass

Now cross your arms and your fingers
clear the cobwebs from your head
                      You're off
And running on your rabbit's feet
clutching clovers to your chest
10,000 lucky pennies
for a Greyhound ride out west
when you get there, count to 7 and exhale

Thawing Point

Thaw out frozen thoughts
shoulders hunched against the sleet
stride crunching on the downbeats
familiar haunts are blurring
Hurried northward daydreams don't
trickle south through Douglas Firs
But remember how our paths crossed?
Stargazers both--I balked first

4 blocks down, I'm held accountable
for crusade hypocrisies
I keep tucked in back pockets
and rolled up in uprolled sleeves

The sun returns, or so I'm told
but it's been evening for awhile.
And, if they're wrong, where are we then?

Left knowing we're left under miles
                         of mounting snow?
Left knowing we've got to stop--
                   but not one clue how to cope
Wondering where hours, weeks and years went
counting calendars we've peeled off walls
Counting marks on records
               marks on faces
Counting calendars
Tally scars--stubborn reminders
     of how we got where we are.

Ground my skyward thoughts
in the grid of frozen streets
I'll sink deep in the hoarfrost
coats the ground, turns steps to beats
I'll keep time, now, walking westward
hands in pockets, eyes on feet.
I'll remember how your breath looked
off of Brooks Street walking east.

Divin'

Nothing special left to say
 but got a hundred thousand words
A hundred thousand fireflies
     caged up behind the teeth

Quite a mouthful--Quite your shiver-
-ing and open up to speak
     If they should listen, this time
 Brand new words will greet their faces,
 reinforcing fond embraces with fresh breath
 and--any luck--a brace of good advice

1) Come around more often.
    We care and you forget
     Fast as years careen these days
     the months and weeks can get
                                 declensive,
                                   dent you,
Deepen lines on once-young faces--
So come around
Remember.

2) Stay in lofty spirits
    And surrender late debts
     List off last year's enemies
    Rip out that page and let
                       your clothes dry
                                dive in
Feet first if you want to; why not?
But do the diving.
Don't forget.

If not then mouth will open
     a hundred thousand sparking points
Released into the night to no one's
     sight or understanding

Noncommittal? Cop to mirrors
Reflection fades out grey to white
     Thickly fogging breaths will empty
out a chest and tile the night air
Wield an ashy look and when lakes
freeze over, find a way across
     to shining shores
     the water's span, a world away.