A swim at the beach by night
and a bottle of cheap ‘Port’.

Beans and weenies at the hotel.

The muted sound of a Sax from
an open window across the alley.

An orange moon begs to share
light despite the drawn curtains.

Love lies dying in the dark
she exhales like a deflated balloon.

Alone now—

Once again, fighting the long
wait until dawn.

Out of drink…
Out of smokes…
Out of luck.

Losing the fight thus far.

editors note: “All good things come to those who wait!” say those who got what they waited for. – mh clay