There’s a half dozen sullen cigars in the ashtray,
Sitting there like aristocratic wights.
All hoary headed
Music from my twenties plays upon titled speakers.
Timed tracks timing out my thirties,
Carrying me towards the forties
With the melancholy
Of blind youth
Each breath, each beat, each passing through
A thousand endless thoughts which are
Torches in the endless darkness.
Lights in a silent rocky cave.
You can’t ever go back
The way you came.