Ten Faces

Dripping wet in the misty morn,

ten faces at the bus stop,

with 7am so sure on their brows,

another day ahead...it was supposed to be

sunny

they said...

but here in the winter fog, ten faces studied one another,

one was clearly possessed:

with twirling keys in a tight pocket,

jingling and jangling - surely up for promotion...or worse..

Another reeked of the corner tavern:

one-dollar cigarettes and Old Crow,

it must've been quite a night,

stationed at the bar like a moth to flame,

certain glances lost...another fantasy revealed,

in dark eyes...

And then there was the girl at the end of the line:

a slave to the vine,

asleep in her mind, you could tell -

with a faint smile, the golden warmth of her sheets,

betrayed a silver lining -

the low scream of midnight was nothing compared to

a seat at the overlooking the breath of dawn...

Ten faces stood together, better left anonymous -

so soon to be raised again like fire,

let's meet here again tomorrow!