Familiar

I hear music from somewhere, the thump
Of a reproduced bass, and I stop. I stare.
I try to remember where I was when I
Heard it last. The sidewalks have emptied.
The traffic is gone, as, slowly, I see myself
Smiling across a table at someone who
Went away years ago, under the lights
Of a bar in a building that burned to the
Ground; irretrievable things, which are
Unwanted now. The streets and sidewalks
Refill. I resume dully moving, in search
Of some food. The music grows fainter.
The day becomes long. The memories
Quickly decay.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 29 times
Written on 2010-02-03 at 12:52

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