Gift
blue bulb gives these walls an icy glow,
I can see it through the mist,
even through vapors
a dull glare is still a light
bright enough to sting
these tired eyes
why does every window
in this town look back at you?
I’ve been playing the same song
on repeat because if you
can’t beat monotony
you may as well join it
indie films from the 70s
& 90s play on mute,
I need to surround myself
with good, old days
or else I’ll slip
into insanity
because this present nightmare
has gone on long enough
my stream of consciousness
is stuffed with the details
of my unconscious
dreams & visions,
& these out of place
images somehow
make more sense
closed captions tell me
the character in the movie
wants to be a poet
& I laugh, I can’t
help myself
I’m admitting
I can no longer help myself
I remind myself
that someone requested
I do this, spill every
mundane thought
& let someone else
sort out the mess
I only make phone calls
in distress & every text
shocks my numbed
fingers with frozen bullets
but there are people
behind those screens
& I’m not one who can
forget that
when it’s after 3AM
& I’m staring into
a flat crystal ball
not wanting to
bother anyone
this is a gift,
this is a gift,
this day,
this night,
is a gift
Thistle Thoughts 