Walking in the street,
moving in and out of traffic

Our conversation dances
with no fire, but passion

Night voyages
with lost soundtracks
depict the
passing of night into
moring

It ends with unlocking the door
to an empty house,
dead plants,
and yesterday's coffee

The slow demise of
falling back into the cracks

Moments loop as if days
and months are hours

Pacing breakfast,
lunch
And
Dinner

Only to eat nothing

9-30-19