Midnite Sonata

There is shelter

In her arms and wrists,

Not found in Hollywood,

Though I strayed back there

In hopes of finding it.

The streets

Had grown more filthy

With my leaving,

Yet I welcomed the dirt

Deep below the surface skin.

I had traveled, once,

Blind through Katmandu

With feet blistered

Red and blue.

But that was long ago,

And the skies

Do not reflect such shades.

I think

I’ll stay here.

Perfectly

Accompanied

By whores

And strippers

And cops

And robbers

And children

And mothers

Daddies

Brothers

Siblings clinging

To the last breath

Of the undead sister,

Drinking in the bar

Of the Midnite Sonata,

The last truck stop

Before highway life.