Nonsense and rhyme
down the dark streets of time

a pagan moon overhead

shedding patterns of gloom
in an empty room

dusky shadows on
the unmade bed

a train whistle blows
rattling steel slows

hissing sounds mark
the end of the ride
last stop is called out
as doors open wide

out drain the crowds
the moon lost in the clouds

dingy globes by the rails
point out the trails

for
shuffling into the station

cattle brought in for the night
moving in resignation

nobody speaks
no one looks up
as they head for the turning stile

no rush to get home

he'll stop for a while

bight garish lights
shriek into the night
he turns in response
to their call

dark booth at far end
he slumps there alone
hugging his golden potion

biting and warm
whiskey goes down
empties the glass in one motion

nods to the bartend
his one constant friend

friend or foe
he can't know
but tomorrow he'll do it again

in that nonsense and rhyme
along the dark streets of time