Wednesday, August 18, 2010

parking lots and capos

the two: one slick, slim, ice-tea
two potted, pepsi'ed
swinging keys, slow parting
sparking engines and away
in opposites
into the shuddering night, navy
sixth fret.
thinking in their own worlds
creating prisms in each other's
like a photograph
in sepia
referenced in loneliness.
the rhythm changes -
lyrics blur -
the sighs carry large bits of worry
and perfection into the summer night
everything lies potential
and thoughts, murmured, regretful
pull the stage into single-file packages.
the city sleep at dark
the lot buzzes

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