Smudge Pot Still Lingers

My tongue is lonely and my mind is zipped locked
and I'm at a roadblock waiting for my Coca-Cola
with salted peanuts

abandoned by the dark because of the tunnel
with a tuning signal at the end of my prose
looking as if god has thrown in the towel

but the smudge pot still lingers
and a shadow still sits on my laptop screen
looking back at me with strange eyes

wanting me to share my fries and paprika
with my parakeet, Picasso,
in my cage, a little bit of paradise