at an impasse non-plussed

unfabricated i write:

wading through the shallow warm sea toward home

the evening is my girl and she is soft towards me which is all i ever asked

evening arranging herself on the horizon

evening in my head all darkness and twinkle

man i must be getting on

all the street lamps in their pink aura quietly fizzing and crackle

come on evening i say coaxing her up the street

older than the hills yet as new as you like…lovely evening

if people stare at me it seems it is that the evening is on my mind

(some idiot has stolen the moon for crying out loud..!)

man you should slow down with that moon shine 

says a voice in another room

the palm trees career by you know

and luxury cars hover in auto-drive

you just felt them whoosh away

tomorrow is the first day of some new summer

whispers a secret voice inside us

the wah wah guitars chatter like bird women

the rumbling thunder almost erased by the sound of distant merriment

evening stumbles through the door all over your floor

evening at the club with her girlfriends

evening in the murk of midnight stagger lonely

evening furious and silent and out to sea

evening lost and lingering in fairy dust

evening in baubles and bright shiny beads

well out in the kitchen i fixing evening a drink

theres syrupy booze and effervescent zing

theres the strong stuff i gave to the weather

theres a bit left from the bottle of optimistic muscat

evening oh evening where are you now baby evening..?

lying low in a graveyard… she answers as if from afar

and i feel a shiver run through the air

fuck it i think now i will never get any softness from her 

(oh being this selfish really wears you out though you know)

instead i waltz into the room with my macedonian macadamias

my maple neck is studded with golden frets

and a solemn bridge of a nose which unites left and right face

evening sit down on my rug from Dalmatia

evening listen to the music i have slaved over for you

no wait right there… says the evening

because maybe i am just another night to you…

with that, a mournful cello sings out its descending figure

inside my fugue evening is a bach flower symphony

the evening with her black velvet cloak behind which is sleep

mmm evening with her strange accent please ask her to be soft with me

we look at the view of the ferns and the pines and the palms and the washing lines

in the cradle of renovation the fertile crescent of the ladies only pool

a hodgepodge of eras

the anterior decorator is baffled

all styles are contained or merge

the stained glass tattoo of your jesus advertised in the windows

the steel columns support floors up to the clouds

the old time cottage developed now as silver thermal whirlpool

evening in her headrest of flowers with her head dress on the plain

evening i know you can be soft some other time i suppose when you really feel like it

evening all

how is everyones evening

out there..?