Smoke & Brood

smoke & brood on the front stoop

the phone glows

in the gloom

hunched over

the days fold

like bended spoons

the moon a joke

i'd rather forget

once there was

a kite that flew

a song to sing

now there's only

time to kill

within the house

or on the stoop

or in the car

6:00 AM can't come

soon enough

pack the pipe

with leaves of void

blow up the block

in the AM

with a scream

there'll be

time again

tomorrow night

to smoke and brood

and think

about the day

to come