571. KANDUHAR

KANDUHAR
(Man Alone)
Morgana at the station, lining
the wheels. Ten minutes before daybreak -
a part of the moon still in the sky. Leftover
darklight, pounded by stars. Some lethal
infraction amidst bare bulbs and lamp-lit
rays splashing shiny light from pillar
to post. Coffee maven wheezes passing by.
An upraised hand, by Tommy Braden,
passes a 'hi' to his friend Tim-o Smith.
As solid as that bag upon his shoulder,
they've known each other for years.
A newspaper left on the bench extolls,
for whatever reason, the Yankees and
the Phils. Covering all bets, placing,
shills. Everything's in play before
the early morning's light.
OK with me.
I just want to be
alone.