Raincast mosaic on my hotel window
streaks Fogo de Chao and
blurs too-small memories
where here (for example) I shook the man’s hand
too small to see past
the shadow of work
or there (I presume) the slash pines stood
too small to stand against
Cheesecake Factory.
In silence unaware
they were taken down,
down across the river flowing.
Drop a quarter in the coffee machine
and play cup poker with the
boys at the side door you
draw a pair of aces blushing
and the boys fete you
on the good Hyster riding
high until lunch we
punch out and go down,
down across the river flowing.
Raincast mosaic washing down to the river, too.
C.B. Crenshaw 