From the dinner table
into the unpolished night

sketchy in my
movements

fragmeted breaths
of cold air

indecent
jay walking

looking like a
distressed mime
between the parked cars

I pull myself
along a rope
of light

balancing on
the wet curb

I waltz a while
with the sound
of my own footsteps

reaching a busy
intersection

where
to my irritation
the red light never
seems to change

so I'm re-directing traffic
with the signs I learned
from rage

spitting on the
windshields the disgust
I stole from agony

but when you get
to be my age
it all looks so
desperately funny

I guess next time
I better smother
the urge of getting
some more wine

and do it fast.