Night Follows Day.
He stands looking out from the double wide,
Another restless night leaving him red eyed,
So tired of the weariness that’s bone deep,
But with a mind so wired it wouldn’t sleep.
Out in the damned desert he hears a coyote cry,
Yap-yapping at a thin sallow moon up in the sky,
Slowly the echo of its brainless baying trails away,
Just another mongrel that;s overspent its stay.
How the Hell did it all come to this?
When did all the hits begin to miss?
He looks up at the moon with a silent scream;
Fading away in El Mirage, living the bad dream.
Now how he bitterly recalls the rich life he’s tasted,
The days of skating through life permanently wasted,
No more rolling past the ladies, six pack taut and trim
And knowing they were lingeringly looking back at him.
The desert wind riffled through his sun streaked hair,
He turns to to face the cooling breeze- which ain’t there,
Here, even in the bleakness of the Arizona night
The desert offers no cold comfort, no respite.
He gives a cough and then coughs again,
He’d give his right hand to see a spit of rain,
He lifts that heavy hand, drags on his cigarette
And gazes through the haze with some regret.
He’s never been one for maudlin thought
But the nights are long and days are short,
So he silently flicks the but from his hand
And watches it spark and sputter in the sand.
Those damn Marlboros have left their mark,
He muses, peering out at a night so deep and dark,
He pulls a pack from the pocket of his shirt,
In light of the surgeons report, another sure won’t hurt.