HEAVEN OF CRACKS

Where nothing happens to anyone

is a heaven of cracks to fall between

or rise up to

if you're in bed

staring at the ceiling

between bouts of sleep

that grind like engine gears

and the replays of the last word

you didn't speak with 

the clerk who looked at you

like a generic bad example

or the smug guy in 

clothes more expensive

than a year's worth of 

take out 

just as the elevator closed

and you were late again

in a building 

towering over high and mighty

over everything you didn't own,

or the car alarm blares

and your coffee is gone,

the men's room is out 

of order

when everyone has to go this time,

It doesn't matter, it will always

be a door that closes

while your speaking

or someone who

watches you like

the price of gasoline,

It's a heaven of cracks that might be

a passage between cragged mountain  ranges

to an Eden where all the totems work,

like sealed water jars

on front lawns

that keep the dogs at bay,

scarecrows in fields of dead corn,

candles to light in church for only a Silver Dollar,

guns with no bullet chambers,

cops and gang bangers doing crosswords,

linen that doesn't the history 

of your lost loves 

who found better hobbies

and funnier men to experiment with,

another door closing,

a neighbor going to work,

can't escape that,

the cell phone 

buzzes and dances on the night table

with a ring full of keys,

it's work wondering where I am

can't escape that either.