Owl eyes of Night,
impassive orbs
veiling pins of ebony,
watch under moonless sky.
The air is sharp as a steel dagger;
Lady Macbeth
staggers under her purple shawl,
wielding an air-drawn weapon.

In the Justice of Time she will punish
her well-loved husband and Sire,
squeamish executioner of the King.
When blood of Great Cawdor's veins
flows from corners of her lips,
she'll have loved him as savage Night loves Death.
For the sleeping and the dead are but as pictures.

She is here then gone only to return worse, like waves – the nor-easter
Then sometimes will become so hot that it will burn our exposed skin
Cold, so much so, our fingers get bitten by the freeze - frost bite
(no Robert Frost did not bite) but Jack frost?
She is loose from asylum a true bi-polar, she and her mood swings

Two men walk by, animated
each having their own sight in the moment
they are bringing vision out of dreams
putting possibilities into practice.

Japanese women, a dozen or so come out of Scuppernong Books
look uncomfortable in the heat, perhaps wishing for Tokyo
speaking in their native tongue
one is angry speaking in body language only.

One man of color walks by, preoccupied,
his thoughts trailing like balloons behind.

Bless all the barmaids that have ever lived
who carried featherlite and knobbly ribbed,
who listened to waffle and crap I spoke
who granted liddle me, a slap n poke,

Who parted flaps whilst in drunken stooper
and gave the bird, to the party pooper!
the big ones, the small ones, the fat n thin
god bless slappers, that invited me in,

Bejeezus Begorra, Mag da Horra,
bless all barmaids, I'll shag on the morra!
big tits big ass, n the ones that pass gas
god bless the ones that I’ve yet to harass,