Backyard
Rooftop drifter mind wasteland,
chirping bird chaos song –
the train rumbles in the wind.
Blue sky –
half Grey –
the clouds move past and shadow
the open windows and open door.
I can’t escape
with this cell phone in my pocket.
Rush hour madness for home,
downtown empties out angry and slow,
I’m in the backyard
of the house with the two front doors.
Travelers in a plane
looking down
so far from me.
I reflect on such details –
while looking up for what I got – a mediocre sunset.
Robert Fraser