trudging the hours beyond the blue fiasco

two men enter
both will drink
i see him in the window
blurred
the man who writes at night

has it already
been a year?
has it even been
an hour?

from the lists of names ignored and forgotten
flashless, the fool finally finds a field
and blends among the graying stalks
that slowly in silence erase
their once proud names

all alone
all together
their soft parade
crawling with no shoes
none met the footless man
none found familiar shoulders

he writes

another hack posting proof
reflecting and echoing
repeating and copying
falls down again
after another down-fall
after falling down again

relentless, his slashing
his stabbing, his brays
his glugs

he writes

on white thru wine and spittle
dragging on, jagged
his knife screaming
breathes life to profound naiveté
paper bleeds

he writes

socially unfit
inept
distorted
unacceptable

for him i give pity
and take a swig to quell
this swelling sorrow
the man in the window
swallows an unsubdued shame

he writes
he waits
he refreshes
he sighs

tides fall, alarms snooze
traffic roars, accidents happen
i yawn
nod

one man leaves
both forget