Sleeps a myth. Red eyed, at 3:00 super markets I’m there just because their open Four cups of coffee and a dollar tea I’m not any thing. The only light be the moon and the blue smoke laces Of cigarettes and the flashback glasses Three phone calls and I answer everyone He pleads desperately for words I don’t have And for word I have no way of knowing Nosh on a truck stop sandwich and try to find the watershed of my back days Dreams in the dunk take that lead me to this bed without comfort Contemplate connections concerning the girl whose half work knowing I go home It is 4’Oclock A good and godless hour But I want faith Thinking back, yesterday was the start of today Make that four phone calls, a rerun Make that five phone calls, a rerun Casablanca and a warm blanket Problem is it’s hot out “play it again Sam“. The phone rings.