Rows of empty cups

Absently waiting to be claimed,

The café sulks in the heat.

Sultry smokers and

Their nicotine apathy

Drowning in their amber dreams.

Ashtrays fill up with time

And abstract reflection;

Even the music slows its beats

As the heat that eats

Indolent dreams and nocturnal memories,

Betrays a whispering unease.

A Wednesday wilderness

Of timorous totem temptations,

And the exhaling and inhaling

Of restless rhythmic respirations.

How soon is now?

Time stalks a sultry slithering.

The eternal return of hand to cigarette,

The minutes seem to stealthily stalk away;

And the writers scribble,

And the drinkers mingle,

Mid-week musings and lethargy,

Telling tales and sensual synergy.

 

31 May 2017

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