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3: 25 Am
It's pouring rain,
and Miles is on the ol Logitech speakers.
It's 3: 25 AM
Graveyard shift at the shelter...
And it's pouring rain
A girl dances outside,
the dance is one of someone who has lost everything.
It is the dance of someone who has lost themselves,
The dance of complete and total abandon.
Her long wet hair whipping from side to side,
while she grinds against a lamp post.
And it is raining so badly,
that it hurts when it hits your skin.
Still she dances,
Debbie Reynolds,
on PCP.
Her clothing clings to her skeletal frame.
She dances as only the damned who have embraced their damnation can dance.
(there is freedom in that, you know?)
I know this girl,
Crack whore who must have scored good tonight.
Her dance is the misfiring of neurons,
It is the dance of a Central Nervous System on overdrive.
And in my office there are 3 half drunk cups of coffee,
Miles Davis
and view of a young woman dancing in a downpour.
Sometimes the shelter is a good place to be
at 3: 25 AM
on the Graveyard shift
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poem
by
Brevet Wilson
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