Dominoes falling

Dominoes falling

Arthritic fingers

Pointing to the sky

Calling for rapture

Candles burning down

Ripened seed pods

Drying in the sun

London Plane trees

Cross-pollinating

All year round

There is smoke on the water

From a funeral pyre

Where the dead

Are mourners

Time is not for sale

The price is too high

To look for bargains

In the cheap seats

Fresh air is hard to come by

Even when raining,

Dirty water

Stains cracked windows

Like mascara

Melting to a torch song

In a late-night

Jazz lounge

A madcap world

Is crying real tears

Drying in a heat haze

Sighing in a remnant

Of memory

Dying for the want

Of a reason.