words

slide across town in the early rain,
the first day of fall,
floating over the roads in the afternoon
on the edge of greatness.

i drink piss wine from a plastic cup,
bad wine and worse fish,
the sun creeps down and the moon up
both to watch at my window
as i do the things i do.

i wrestle with the light,
i smother it in my arms
and sleep for four hours
then wake confused and out of place,
spend what little money i have
on what little food it will buy
then finish the piss wine
and open a bottle of red,
keep the night moving
like an assembly line.

i burn the hours like grass
and i latch my presence to a full moon,
lunatic in verse howling wild
and endless, i see birds now
only in their fleeing
as i chase ghosts round and out
from this haunted summer.

-S.C. Martinez