This city hangs from my neck
A hundred mile wide sinker with no lure
Time away has dulled my senses
Pulled the ink from my fingertips
Even driving up and back trying to depress myself
Brings no moldy musty muse forward…

I had a neighbor for 3 hours
She had an alarm and a boyfriend,
Some kitchen supplies,then she left
But lucky for me I have a cul de sac
I found a new neighbor between shopping carts
Silent like a shy spirit in a Balinese gate
At night, a low glow from his fire greets me
And yet I don’t think he speaks the language,
Does not want to
(I don’t blame him).

The coffee’s dark,the coffee’s bright
The wine makes the sidewalk feel like a blacklit sofa
The evening air turns a Japanese hood into a love seat
This is still an exercise
These images have no inspiration
I feel like a reporter without a story
Who would listen to this?