This is a poem
about another
solitary shift.

There is tension
in my sore shoulders,
and a tender tightness
in my right knee joint.

The dark sky brings
the trifecta of
three rainbow hallow
having light bulbs
blazing.

Less than a quarter
of a block’s distance
is a pair of lights
that pierces the night
like irritated eyes
peevishly peering
out at the parking lot’s clearing
while pouting petulantly.

Near night’s end
I walk and listen
to the sound of the wind
moving through
the select few
scattered trees
that surround me.

The orange’s juice drips
on my dry cracked lips
while the sun
spreads its orange
glazed glory
across the dark morning sky,
a catharsis of narcissi’s sweetness.

Flags up
and then I am off
fleeing from
the forming day,
and going home
so, I can sleep
the rest of the
daylight away.