Some jazz helps
My eyes see
Focus waver
With such ease.
Some coffee helps
My mind continue
Brooding
Along wayward paths,
Striding
Across evenings, nights,
And Mornings–
Swinging past,
While my torpid head
Lusts over
Something faceless,
Something trapped within
Some facade.

Some leaves rustle
Lifelessly,
Heard along dark alleys,
Hardened in the cold,
Robbed of all tenderness,
A trail of death syncopates
A trilling percussion.
A beat is born,
From the dead leaves
Beneath my feet.

Some magical key
Is held in the air,
Serenading the glowing heads
On scattered street-lamps,
Illuminating the very things
Nature tries to conceal.
Suspended and suspending,
No room for surprise.
Some strange piano-man,
Somewhere,
Plays an eternal reprise.
Latescence looms  
Egregiously
In the air
That I breathe.