voracious thirst for other’s doubt,
Music scatters airwaves to flow straight
to swayable ears, serenely accepting
the jazz of it, the drift.
Meanwhile Baden-Baden’s roulette wheels
spiced an evening,
and plush carpet silenced reason.
That was then,
pretending we could slide unannounced
through royalty, like gods drunk on fake celebrity.
It is a drip from a faucet
interrupting a lonely night dressed with
half-read volumes and honky-tonk.
Sweet sentiments, dead-quiet room
mixed like a good cocktail in a trembling hand.
(For more poetry by Alice Shapiro and “Life: Descending/Ascending” go to www.totalrecallpress.com or www.amazon.com.)