flat.fish.flesh

A plucking of the human chord
is tinted by one hundred tones,
each rung out by the spinning record
strumming on the playful bones.

Winter winks at night, it wavers,
follows alleys, snakes about town,
grabs the chance to lead one wayward,
taunts, too tempting to turn down.

Skin gets rhythm from the down beat,
beats the syncopated dance beat,
beats a way along the dark street
stones where it does find its fine feet.

Smile condenses on cold lenses,
shuts the door and comes inside.
What will fill the swollen senses?
Half-light hints, so hard to hide.

See this season’s city shining.
Stretch yourself out from today.
Daytime drifts by daunted, dreaming,
letting lyrics line its way.