Dance Like A Ceiling Fan

1-eMyKeWX4bUgFhMVEOp9tfQ

We waited
At the front door,
Patient as
Dictionaries
Placed in
Fiction. Papers were cold
Cigarettes adorned the ceramic
Ashtray. He pinched a cigarette
Charred to the filter,
Analyzed its appearance
By twirling it at eye level. Ashes danced
And ascended to a ceiling fan,
Disappeared as dust. We had
Electricity and a basement
Where the previous tenant hanged
Herself. Her ghost sings
To the water softener.

What’s outside our walls,
But this?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s