i've nodded off at the table in the window
that doesn't exist anymore
amidst the hopeful, the jittery,
the eager and the desirous
something outside is aflame
i inhale, sample the smoke
the ash and the air
i remember burnt things
the doubtful praise of rock music
the surreal squealing of late night trains
the fitful moanings of their inhabitants
are the collapsing shadows
slumped against the rusted benches
the same or renewed?
