Cheesesteaks

Car was lost under green, red,
white lights outside twelve
steps down in the Italian market of
somewhere last night, early spring
wind chilled my sweat drenched
shirt, four beers down and forgetful
ghost town street with nothing to sell
but the promise of tomorrow, an endless
tomorrow of the market gawking back at me in the
ghastly mirrors of the night, God's night
on earth and I touched shattered streets
looking for a foothold in the mad swill,
but I was late,
I was too tired

there's an eternity of processed cheese
fallen on the curb