Salt Lake Starship
trodden about
the dim bum
wasted in a doorway
no one comes in
no one leaves either
the hollow colored old glass door
sitting with his bottle
aloose in paperbag
draws the last warm dreg
through his dry lips
and glances at the sky
the sky of gods
the sky of streetlight glows
and he spies thru the center of an opening
between
the brick trees jutting to
the home of zeus
the single bright dog star
and sighs
and moans
and closes his eyes against the
world and
allows the night to
fill the black of his eyelids
and sleeps
boise aug 2004
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