Old Glass

old glass,
without a plan
knocked around by the next world war.

sitting in a dump of thought,
the same clock turns out the same lights

again with the weather…
again with the names…

backed against the wall…
shorter ladder,
ease the fall;
another bad season for the law

in time,
hostage negotiation

the winter says “fuck all your reasons!”

still type past my prime;
another white computer
head full of slaves
searching for their master.

in the elevator up
you drift past my body
down the halls of another
lost city tonight 
(tonight, tonight, tonight)

shake down with some fine
sisters of the moon
same idea,
same old habits,
same old songs from a room,        

 like those
 cherry blossoms growing
 way down in your soul,

the avalanche of smoke
is starting to curl

around whatever is left
around whatever is next
around whatever is best for everyone else;

gutter rats and stalemates…

that game of chess
i never should have lost.

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