December

Everyone’s a Friday night king,
Walking streets that shrug off last nights snow
In wet, grayed lumps along the curbside
While the sidewalks catch the glaze
Off the moon covered in tides of wispy, dying clouds
Withering now that they gave what they had.

The lights turn green at the intersection,
And the couple holding hands stops,
Reminded that they’re only human
And exchange a kiss.

Yeah,
And if everyone’s a king tonight,
Then I must be the lucky dead,
Watching it all through the foggy windows
Of an empty coffee shop
With a dying cigarette,
Not-so-hot chocolate,
And chairs fit for the all the ghosts
That aren’t there anymore.

Reviews

[Daniel Gardner]

The lights turn green at the intersection,
And the couple holding hands stops,
Reminded that they’re only human
And exchange a kiss.

I like this line. Very thoughtful poem. Nice work.