Eyes glassy
pouring over a fan of lurid eight by tens,
no closer to any truth,
curdled twine of a cancer stick,
fuming between his teeth.
Limp overcoat drizzling pools
under the mildew creak of castors.
“Leave me alone,” in obsessed echoes,
pinched suspender clips,
sloped-shoulders in careworn harness.
Knuckles ground into both cheeks
to keep from kissing leather.
“Hey pal, put out the fire.
Enough midnight’s been spent.”
It’s the end of the line,
minus pay-off
for the girl with no secrets.
A cold case
rattling through empty relics
in his restless mind.

©Nick Zegarac

Recommend this article...