Sizzling was the sound of rain 
His dreams down the drain 
Taverns are cold, cold spaces 
She sat lonely as the plains 

Mindless they thrashed about 
Sooty light on milky stout 
Across the way she looked like him 
She asked what he stewed about 

On his arm he took her home 
She offered him spoon of chrome 
Morning came denied of sleep 
Outside daisies stood tall in loam 


© 2004 by Braxton Younts. All rights reserved.