Thinking of the Bridge of Sighs, here in cloudy San Francisco. Playing poker on the Pont des Arts with tourists from Sienna. Watching the sun set over cold beer at Ydronetta. Or . . .

counting cars

counting cars from iowa, somewhere
round 2am
my next sunset is wracking clamors
gone in me full of shakes
round 3am
sun, go take that other man
leave me some shadow, anywhere
you get so caught in laughing
making up your twisty games
you and i, we've finished
with all our conversations

enough spying, hiding upside down
counting cars from alabam
cadillacs and lincolns
weary me
leather and cubanos
tired sinatra tunes
round 4am
aren't i fierce
and beautiful?
worth the effort
change to spare
do you fancy this endeavor
capital is always welcome
round 5am