An Evening at Tims

An Evening At Tim's-


With thumbs extended,
we begin the journey
of one hundred and fifty thousand steps.

Fortune sends us a pick-up
piloted by a pair of drunken cowboys
giving pause to one of our number.

He bails and we let him

Rocketing through the night
with the crisp late summer air
buffeting our faces,
we grin at each other,
at the adventure.

We are young, we are free,
secure in our ignorant theory;
The night belongs to us.

Coffee's up in doubles and singles,
pounding them in succession,
the cheapest and easiest way
for us kids to get our kicks.

Minutes skip,
and are replaced by hours,
all that changes are the faces.
The worn, the soused, the bored.

Our pedestrian friend arrives.
Hours late.

How long now?
We tell time with every stained butt,
stubbed and snuffed,
in an overflowing ashtray.

"To the airport", says one,
he with the car.
Crosstown to see the giant metal birds,
touching down with a monstrous rumble,
adding to our jitters.

Laughter and coffee,
and cigarettes and coffee,
and music and coffee,
and coffee and coffee.

Time has finally eluded us,
space is but a disjointed notion,
Everything is broken up and dances *
Then one of us notices the horizon,
a shadowy treeline
against the paling sky.

We dread the coming dawn,
the harbinger of reality.
Gazing westward at the retreating eve,
we realize it was never ours; but us
who belonged to the night.


* This line borrowed from Awake/Ghost Song by Jim Morrison