Your Eyes Were Bluer Than Robins' Eggs

mysterious free holy
after you had gone
i put back on my lunatic mask
wore wilted winter roses
and whispered about your eyes
to the vast indifferent darkness
the deserted sleepless streets
bottles turned up empty
everywhere i had just been
waiting for magic is thirsty work
pounding the miracle beat
stalking a backtracking love vision
in the multi-colored fog
i have punched that unkind clock before
and more than long enough
"the weird vigil is over"
i heard myself mutter
to no one in particular
"fear is a bug that deserves to be stepped on"
then the word was passed along
to our enormous secret gathering
to jugglers and muggers
mothers and joggers alike
the parade shifted gears
and we were all at a loss for words
stampeding past the invisible podium
like drunken homing pigeons
toward the moon
--tw