everyday nights

I

lonely people ,
form round table squads.
play twister,
play risk.

dreamer boys
sit red eyed in circles
dreaming
hurting.

all the waking
stare aghast,
blasphemous boys.
pity.

II

soft guitar strums
lead the way to melodious
harmonicas
as the fellas
scream of peace
in time of war.
the boy waits
and the poet watches
as dreams of glass
push thru eyes
glazed in innocence
lost to a woman
with a hurting smile.

III

lonely boy,
sits alone,
laughs a lot
cries going to bed.

young man,
folds his broken dreams
posts out
to an unknown address.

the reaper,
glides through realms of brother dream
stops,
touches our sleeping hero.