At Least For a Few Hours
At least for a few hours
An empty corner bends
beneath street lights working overtime
and a bench, cold and lonely,
damp from previous storms
and those threatening,
closing dark curtains
on a weary skyline,
beckons, offering a seat,
hard slats horizontal
last occupied by another
with hopes and dreams
left to wander, wondering why
A black cat crosses my path
and I laugh at its expression
Knowing it believes bad luck
will come of this, little does it know,
I have no path for it to cross,
no destination or planned outcome
Pushing the crosswalk button
again and again
and still it reads don’t walk,
I do as I am told
I feel drowsy as I settle in,
counting cars and flickers of
the faulty neon sign
at the 24 hour tattoo parlor
Where needles aren’t the only thing
spurting ink, perforating skin,
creating a lasting impression
that even a beautiful sunrise
can’t erase as I fall off to a world
that doesn’t seem so bad,
at least for a few hours,
hoping that when I wake
it wakes with me
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2017
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