Hollow Street

the lamps lean forward bending light
on pavement that catches the night
the gutters clog with what’s been thrown
paper
prayers
and things unknown

somewhere a radio coughs a tune
half-lit beneath a sleeping moon
a train moves slow with iron breath
splitting the dark as if it’s death

I sit alone where shadows meet
coffee cold and silence sweet
the waitress moves in careful grace
her hands a blur in empty space

outside a prostitute walks and sways
her coat too thin for winter days
she turns the corner drifts away
like things that vanish come what may