Angst Redux

A floor fan vibrating in the window,
pulling in the downtown night,
the quiet of two a.m.,
thin ghost of existence,
shadow in a dark room,
the streetlight always with you,
two illuminating life.
If you could see yourselves, you'd sigh,
but are far too blind for that,
so you gaze at each other;
it at your awaiting, and you
its stoic singularity:
your thoughts, its light,
both too late at night,
too late and lost in time,
but it burned your shadow on the wall,
didn't it?
Don't fret: I'm not mocking.
We're together in this,
twisting rhymes for streetlights
singing songs for floor fans,
lighting cigarette off cigarette
to keep the torch burning,
that reverence for life,
when there is nothing
but a naked heart beat,
the streetlight, the night, and
a floor fan vibrating in the window.
No, please, continue:
your anguish bathes the world.


(SK, May 1986)