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

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