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Sketch of a Man
Lazy fingers drum the surface,
calling on his last- same shoes, same beard,
same linger of another night.
Nicotine lip-prints dance on the glass,
caught in a small attempt to open up,
and sing to the floating blues.
His shadowed face in reddish-blue
is sharing hue with if not- clear liquid-
sage thoughts for another olive.
Deep murky eyes, lost on things out there,
are studying the place. The neon shapes
upon the wall mock movement.
It is another man across the mirror
still battling the day. Following his shadow,
he pays and moves away.
