late shift
I slouch through the door
drop my bag in the corner
kick off my shoes and catch her
standing there
reflected in the bathroom mirror
sky blue evening gown
floral bows woven into her hair
poised like a dancer in first position
I remove my tie and jacket
drape them over the coat rack
start drifting towards her
at a loss for words
undressing as I walk
shedding layers of apprehension
the day slides off my shoulders
in the hallway
she continues, bold and balanced
every nuance, every motion
the nakedness of my reflection
pales bside her
one embrace away from
existential redemption
when she slowly turns around
to meet my eyes
stomp
streets beneath my steps
scream for mercy as I walk
sidewalks bend and buckle
to avoid my swinging shoulders
to dodge my determined stare
teeth shining under a hood
ticking like a metronome
heavy eyes like boxing gloves
pockets in the shape of firearms
darkened buildings shy away
hide their faces from this hoodlum
slam doors and windows
shutting out this ravenous wolf-dog
wanderers and night rats
cross to put a road between us
passing cars accelerate
click the locks, kill the music
I feel the pavement cracking
feel the steam beneath the city
pouring pyroclastic ash
in the avenue behind me
feel newsstands bursting
into flights of origami
parking meters rupturing
showering the concrete with coins
even planets hanging low
to seduce the tiny stars
turn dim at my approach
disappear behind a cloud
until the headphones fueling the
fire of my procession
dissolve into a long, slow fade
then my pace decelerates
my posture slumps and softens
until I'm just another fucker
on the road
metropolis
strange breed of insomnia
I'm witnessing tonight
creating cities on the inside
of my eyelids
mind reeling, jammed with architecture
imaginary buildings
shaping the infrastructure of an
impossible district
I step into my creation
riding backseat in a taxi
driven by a yellow jacket
through swarms of rain
my songs pour from the radio
past pedestrians in alleyways
trailing off into the dark
as my eyes open
the simulacra crumble
every bridge, tunnel, and streetlight
stranding me with nowhere else
but these four walls and still awake
as my thoughts erase themselves
inventiveness evaporates
clock time melts into a pool
and drains away
specialist
scrawling on my business card
turning corners to fit every word
stanzas spiraled into mazes
lines tightly wound and shrinking
ideas flickering, fading too quick
as I surround my name and title
like a jar of sticks and leaves
trying to catch glowing flies of inspiration
countless, close but out of reach
evading the moment I approach
escaping 'til their time expires
their corpses unnoticed in the weeds
printing small as I can manage
still I'm running out of space
before the momentum escapes
like the crack of a distant gunshot in the night
take me as i am
I'm not ashamed
of my love
for the Sunday
funnies
or that miserable
orange
cat
morning song
this morning I awoke
to a terrible commotion
our roundest tabby
singing to the rafters
I didn't shout
or throw socks
to chase him from his
improvised stage
I just left him to his song
waiting for the coda
of a rambunctiously
toneless melody
nay
somehow you always
make your way
into these little thoughts of mine
slipping in quietly
through the back door
as I construct these rooms
around me
and invariably
you
The Planetarium
ISBN: 978-1-62258-004-0
LCCN: 2012955390
© Tim Becker, 2013
Chapters: 6 (15–16 poems ea.)
Poems: 94
Pages: 190
Words: 11,986