quarta-feira, 28 de outubro de 2015

Old poem, new version


Noite de cão


This is one of them no-show nights.
Her man gets sidetracked on the way home,
  some old friend who pops up, lights up
bright as the orange bulb of a  street lamp
just as a fog sets over the city.
'Man, where you been all these years?'
and grins as wide as embraces, as
 they slump down at the  bar on the corner
on  red stools with yellow foam
gaping  from  cracks, and  the glasses
 go empty, one after another, as
 the night shrinks before them, stories
winding up and up and then down
 again, just like a life when it gets 
 stuck at the place  no doors
              want to open.

Back at her place
his lady is sleeping, television blaring and the telephone
off the hook buzzing alone into the madrugada.

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