The porch light barely illuminates the overflowing ashtray
Moon, abandoned home, smokestack, alleys: view
Orderly circles of leaking lunar spectrum serve as steady sight
Otherwise torn by my mouth like a hooked fish to the angler-night
The streets are full of holes like the stories of conspirators
Kitten of gender nondescript plays in the corner, jubilant
Clouds pass and pay no mind, don’t associate with our kind
I hope she doesn’t find me foolish when I interject
Approached by vendor of the thieving sort with stolen radio offered cheap
Promised to turn potential customers his way as I planned retreat
A character amongst graffiti and gritty blacktop, the type I always meet
Nobody waited for us as we signaled from the crosswalk
Back to the quarters, friend needs a ******
Try to concentrate and write despite the bang on the walls
Distraction from *** I’m not having; she’s a screamer
Dark brewed beer is a bitter taste for bedtime