mannequins

through empty night streets
of mind i wander
beneath drizzling rains,
flickering streetlights and
neon barroom windows
advertising panaceas
by the pitcher bottle or draft
wanting desperate somebody
to share my words, my mind,
my tears and wailing bedsheets.
where to find her,
walking the malls with only
mannequins to wrap my arms –
no breath, no blood, just
wooden hollows and glossy paint.
how i envy aaron
with his village mistress.
will she wait on a local shore,
tenement or across the tired
oceans of sadness?
where is my pamela susan,
mary wollstonecraft,
peter orlovsky, lisa…
fights and flights
to the street for solace.
cigarettes, beer,
a journal to pass
the hours before dawn.
suburbia’s unwanted son.
the all night diner,
tea and toast and
nothing more. a waxing moon.
can i summon magic
out of suburban darkness?

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