under nameless skies
like ants we hustle and
...maneuver through events
canceled my last subscription of this travel
magazine we used to like together. got enough
strength to pack up my remaining belongings and
move to other side of the city. nice high-rise.
condo's like little perfectly packaged ivory boxes,
and i bought into it. four years pass by and life
has somehow returned to its hum-drum flowing.
deserted park
speaking in aged voice
twilight responds
new job's exciting. traveling and photographing non-
stop. by the time i looked up its four years later,
late November and cold. i love the cold. after
wrapping up a shoot and heading home to clean up
and change; i decide to head to Chastain's lounge.
entering the doors of this non-descript building full
of its vintage appeal, atmosphere bathed in all brands
of cigarette smoke yet diluted by various perfumes and
colognes; nothing to pungent...sort of just right; im in
there, greeting the 'beautiful ones,' while heading to
the bar for a glass of Riesling. the man on the cello
speaks to my corpuscles in youruba and bursts of ghanian
sunrises...i'm in there!
looking to my left, i see you...
.......my ex...
somewhere
night dips into a pocket
--chicago winter
©2012 -Sabah
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