I walked out of the coffee shop
Late on a Friday early in November;
The air suffused with a dense mist
A hundred yards in every direction,
A pale moon visible beyond it
Too high in the sky this time of day.
Cars all had headlights switched on
Adding a sense of dark mystery
Heightened by the ringing train bell
As we walked along the empty sidewalk.
Jake turned to me, his mouth opening
About to say something, his mouth catching and closing
When he realized empty words were
Worse than no words, that any
Yammering could spoil our supernatural
Illusion before we consumed all its
Fantastical, tenuous pleasures.
BillSaysThis 