You find yourself alone at last
amongst the masses.
Out where the sunset sits
cross-legged in the sky,
staring downward through
the evening.
Such beautiful backdrop
for such ugly company,
all of it painted on canvas;
ochres, violets, varying
shades of autumn gray.
Find yourself bummed out
on the side of the curb,
sharing insults
with the passing traffic.
Even the devil has company,
but here you are alone,
sharing cigarettes and
cheap conversation with
the cement.
Night comes without urgency
and you are left in it;
bad breath and
a dense, colored
evening air that
burns the lungs
with coming winter.
The pub sign down the road
leans out from her window,
peering scornfully down
through her thick, iron grates.
Red and blue lights
blink disapproval against the pavement.
But maybe that rough pavement
can almost feel sweet
to the touch.
Maybe that rough pavement
can be soft; a woman's curve,
if you get it just right.
The old beer bottle
leans in and tells
you a terrible secret
before putting his cap
back on, strolling
off into that setting sun.
Skipping rocks
off an ocean of rubble
and asphalt
before they careen
into the grass.
Even the devil has company,
but sometimes it is
not so bad to be alone.