Traffic on Market splashed through the downpour

windshield wipers moving in concert

like a well rehearsed ensemble.

Chase and his floppy ears snuggled next to me

lights out and a cigarette red star in a night

glowed bright with each slight night movement.

Where is the fantasy on a night like this?

Spartan honesty never seemed so real than now.

You’re absence like an empty cup of coffee

with only bitterness in wasted grounds.