The medicine store fluorescents hum a tired tune,
casting the street in shades of sickly green.
Another night, another joint, another cartoon
playing on the screen – a laugh track, obscene.
The cashier, a girl with eyes like chop-chopped china,
rings up my purchase, barely a glance my way.
Outside, the wind whispers secrets to the pusher,
secrets I already know, secrets that decay.
Back in my room, the roaches scatter like filings,
a symphony of clicks on the cracked tiles floor.
The amber nugget burns a familiar fire, fillings
the uselessness with a bittersweet roar.
No dreams tonight, just the hum of the city’s thrum,
sirens wailing a lullaby off-key.
This concrete jungle’s my lullaby, glum,
a symphony of despair, just for me.

para Isa

Another sunrise, another cheap beer chaser, staving off the rust.
The road stretches on, an endless gray strip, promises neon-lit and faded.

para Isa

Heart’s a cracked asphalt road, weeds pushing through the lines.
Your laughter, a dusty cassette, the tune barely there.
Plays in the background, static and skips, an unforgotten summer.

para Isa

Bus shelter reeks of stale cigarettes and despair.
Rain lashes down, a chorus of drumming on the metal roof.
Ad posters peel at the edges, dreams you can’t afford.

Haggard faces huddle, shadows in the dim light.
Each one a story scrawled on a crumpled paper cup.
Waiting for a bus that may never come, or a ride that takes them too far.

para Isa