Broadway Sorrow

Rain smothered my windshield as I turned on

Broadway heading west for no reason

just my mind wasting time in darkness.

Carole and James sang, quietly telling me

maybe you wouldn’t love me tomorrow,

maybe god is skipping this year’s festival.

Potholes vibrating my steering wheel and reminding me

my money is gone, six cigarettes waiting for a shaking hand.

Loneliness has never felt so sorrowful.

Windshield wipers streaking my life with each splash of light

cast by godawful sulfur leached yellow lamps.

I truly am the man of constant misery, stay your distance.

You said goodbye, but I didn’t hear.

I heard only what I wished for, what drove me.

You never complained until our pot boiled over.

Swish another splash of life pushed me away, far away.

I wish there was a wand to wave to bring you back,

back into my arms, but rain keeps falling and never calling.