Sharp Noir (Part V)

Rubix reported a lingering dread

- an idiosyncrasy of this particular

model, although a noble sentiment –

filed undisclosed natural causes;

we all know what that means.

They’ll gibbet Cassis as an example

for striking pins at this level:

life isn’t all beer and skittles

when dealing decks a fatality situation.

Alone in a hotel room,

a light whisper of a night-train

flutters just above the roof,

taps enough to imply the wind

and talk of the sea it’s from.

Picking at the nightmares between

reality and dream, Cassis, half-

sitting, may become a regular

footnote stranger, dissolving tears

in alcohol to avoid making a scene.

Havoc has been wrought

on his midbrain by alternating

sedatives and stimulants.

Rolling up the tag like

a little newspaper, reining in

a bucket from a mossed well,

Noir retrieves a teabag

from Cassis' mug.

We imagine the procession:

two files like heavy curtains

breezing each other

as the mourners wobble

in their short, slow steps;

Rubix smoking because,

like most actors, she knows

not what to do with her hands.

In our darkest reflections, of love and death,

our thoughts are potent with the Colonel.

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