Back on your Lonely

Nancy Rosen

soho; early morning
tug the odd quiet closer
the croon of first light
corner joints roping in the day
with a little patience
scene transformed
by the orange of sun
peeling down like the fruit
warm rush of bodies and babel
fusing beneath invisible stars
faces glowing amber, melding
stellar collisions of a different kind
b&h blues for my bad days and good evenings
but rarely in between
chapters turned on the bus
focus wrestling the din of traffic
skip through the front door
and up all those darn stairs
an open window, a balmy breeze
reverie of swaying junipers
taking root in the jaded hour
mind cradled by candlelight
and just like that
you’re back on your lonely, missus
and you know it so well
just like that,
you’re back on your lonely.