You rubbed off a name from my wall.
I strip a tissue from your brain.
Today rain mocks time’s movement.
Sleep mocks coma.
Here I scratch a street.
There your Bible salesman seeks a door.
North of all music,
cold, my umbrella huddles with yours and listens
to a dying jazzman’s cigarette-hand.
You remove blue from my song.
I operate on the rest of the notes.
Sleep hiccups- good day,
and we dream- every soldier sings.
Every singer battles within.