Coming Soon or Never

Sitting in the Park at Dusk

I am not the love of the love of

my life’s life. Sometimes that’s just

how it goes. The moon slides

into a cloud like a coin into a laundry machine

& out comes the clean snow.

From here, I can see all the way

to there. A tower of refuse,

a possum on the roof. Oh, & the lamps

have come on. Lord, I am the lamp

illuminating as much

of my life as I can. The life of

my life, the love I give away.

John Doe
Poet, Independent Writer

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