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  • FM radio

    blasts midnight

    from out of dawn's ass

    while

    jazz of insane dead men

    comforts loneliness

    like balsa wood totems

    chasing demons of bad timing

    and

    even worse choices.

    .

    bed

    crumbs

    from salami sandwiches

    instead of steak,

    naked female erotica

    held captive on pages

    of glossy magazines

    in place of real flesh.

    I think

    and think some more

    until losing all gravity to depression

    and

    wondering why

    the pictures no longer move

    at 35.

    .

    .

    ©2016 Miles Ciletti

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