The  night flew in like a Kamikaze on patrol and I
the target vehicle lost control and tried to flee, but the pilot
of this flying bomb could not fail to see the terror trail.


before the end.

Then
it's not dark anywhere and the air is light,
the drone of the engine carried away with the night
but the chattering of my nerves serves as its own master.

Two alka seltzer in a white wine spritzer
I might as well feel alive and drunk,
dead drunk is a dead loss.

Weaving slowly a carpet from the day may be the way to keep out of sight, a covering over me to keep the kamikaze from seeing me.

Either way or anyway the day will end.

What man can be and cannot see to see what man can be and are the words that come so free
from the fountain
that spouts inanity?

They send another and another and the night becomes my brother, some time good and times when bad is bad, scuff marks on the overhang and split nails when enough's enough
I'll stand and catch the blast or mix a drink and watch the pills dissolve.

both eyes on the sky which fades to cemetery black
and the night is back.