It’s six’o’clock in the morning
the sky is a dark pink
crows scream their caws to the early light
and I still have not slept.
The air is cold and brisk and
I know rain
will be coming.
I yearn for crisp cloudburst:
somber grey and light wind,
washing streets and air
clearing the day with cool condensation.
But for now,
I watch the smoke float
mimic the silver clouds
against a mauve colored sky.
Knives in the Nightclub 