PokerApril clouds reduced the dusk
and all things beneath it
to a dimming glow, or headlights.
Yet the swallows still darted
and other lives began or ended
in the heavy, biting incense of spring.
Young lovers ignited their trek
through metal gates and down dirt roads.
And in still, dark houses the living
commenced what they loved to do:
on the way to poker I stopped to buy beer:
she was propped at the pay phone—her legs
so long and her dress so short and open
it weakened my soul just to see it.
rdking