Night Out in Boston
The first of the sleet slid by On the other side of the glass Bouncing off windscreens with a Satisfying thud before burying Themselves into the pavement We remember too slowly and forget Too quick to keep the moment From slipping us into the early Hours, growing harder to parse Time at the last place we were Conscious that this isn’t the end Of an evening but the dregs of an Overactive mind running on fumes Still catching in the light, to keep A dim glow behind the eyes The only light left in case Fellow travellers seek harbour In the face of gathering dust The winds whipped into life Where all else is artifice Lost souls at the feet of Isis Only to be raised again When the last of us finally Gives up on last orders To make way for the rites