Michael F Lewis Poet Free verse

Match Sticks

Making match sticks from the bridges
We haven’t yet burned.
Making match sticks to burn the bridges
We haven’t yet burned.
So busy with drinking cocktails,
sweating sex in hotel rooms,
 Running from boredom
Soaking up the smiles from homeless on the pristine streets,
Widdling away the reflections in the shop windows,
That’s not me, I am me, here with a flask and an appointment
At a speakeasy, staying busy. 
So busy making matchsticks we ran out of bridges to burn.

Michael F. Lewis
3/20/2014

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Lady Monster November 7, 2015 at 11:34 PM Reminds me of one of my poems. I used the line, "The soot of burned bridges blinds you".