Clear pool turns
white

and browns at the
edges

as the yoke starts to
harden

and butter
sizzles and pops

scattering drops
some

do somersaults
while some

fall to their demise
surreptitious

or otherwise

it's the mind's  attempt
to give shape

to a panful of
nonsense

The street glistens
from a recent hard rain

tires splash
thru muddy puddles

neon flickers
and buzzes with the din

of dining
and drinking

to whom it may
concern

A canopy of green
beginning

to turn pink
as twigs and dry leaves
crunch

below my feet

a gray stone bench
dead

ahead
where I will sit
and silence

the senses

Dangling from the fence
freshly greased

drops falling
on the pavement

quiet but grimy
music

Blue Screen
volume low
static hum

you sleep then you're
awake

walking the line
between

consciousness
and dreaming

Numbers faded
under caged glass

hands shake
but they move

progress slow
yet steady

Bulbs

in their day
they banded

read

No Vacancy

but not now

today
one lit
the other
burned out

as if to say
some days good

but on balance
mostly bad