a wisp of resuscitation
reveals a sign that says closed.
I guess the hours got changed,
again.

shutting me down
after the first tremors

I’d love to be an impartial observer
a reader of these near-crimes
not feeling, save for the lessons.
switch the channel
or just turn down the sound

but it is
loud and silent
and raw
thrown on the floor
like notes
from Duane’s guitar

overshadowed
by the absence
that comes again
in single file

©Tom Watters  8/6/09