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.