Summer Air

Inside the windows fog over. I wonder:
Do the water droplets collect on the
Inside of the window glass or outside.

I sit and wonder this. Somewhere
Deep inside the radio speakers
Tinkles a piano.  I turn up volume
And rollick to Pepe Romero's classical guitar.

Only the noisy cicadas
Outside the foggy windows.
Inside, the smell of fresh paint
and figs rotting in the wooden bowl by the window.

Everywhere mosquitoes, ubiquitous biting bugs
And even the bottled water tastes like iodine.

A new poem from a series

I'm going to Henry's Place to cry
While I sip diet Coke in the dark
Alone in a crowd of shadows
between me and the internet
jukebox.

I like this short poem because it highlights my efforts to quit drinking beer in the dark with strangers.  I like to get out of the house and hear live music and visit with friends.  But yesterday I found myself writing this poem anyway. So there will be a series of similar rhymes rhythms, and relationships.