"A rather mild January..."
A rather mild January
in a small, forgotten town,
quiet like a cemetery
in its fleeting evening gown.
Flicker of the lighter flame.
Curling smoke. The lonely star,
skinny-dipping, unashamed,
in the nearby reservoir.
Here I wander, wavering,-
an enraptured, blissful drunk, -
whispering and savoring
poetry against my tongue.