By Cassidy Rowe
It has been so long
since I envisioned harmony
around dripping candles
in an unheated apartment
paranoid and compulsive until dawn
rising above the din
of strip poker and
drunken lamentation
From the porch, free advice for passing cars
and somehow the stray cats
always found their way inside
But they don't agree with Dylan or Jim Croce
and they allowed themselves to be pet a while
before disappearing into the darkness
From contemplation on the couch
someone has discovered a passage of Keats
that moves them
and it is being shouted
above the music & the conversation & the card game
A shout of laughter and clinking of glasses
as someone has just lost the game
and then silence and cigarette smoke
while the record is changed
It was well past dawn when conversation died
& music ceased & books closed & cards were put away
& it was Monday morning


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