Slow Boat to Voodoo Street

We all have our demons
& such a short time to dally amongst them

in cut-out pieces of rainy
afternoon light lifted from the
concrete tide

Your heart gets lost in the details
like a cheekbone dagger & the jangle of
loose harmonicas before the flood

broken on the intravenous highway
where you’re all lit up like a winter’s
night & I’m still etched in sand

at the water’s edge