I live down-wind from the fog
although it is more of a breeze
and I don't know who to believe
all the stories I hear
from up there            with no connection
–that's what the fog does–
only memories and guesswork

Under the bridge
with pigeons and seepage

waiting for rain to pass
thinking about alien

or some such
tubes locked in

to night
so unglamorous

–that's what fog does–

The wind irritates
although it is more of a breeze

~ ~ ~

Nights in Red Satin

In this casino
they give you a card for free
You keep it
or lay it on any table

I laid my card
you, yours

That's all it was

~ ~ ~