I see visions of tomorrow.
Clubs with open doors, red seats
and low smoky lights; melting drinks
and bowls of peanuts.
Freight trains rumble by with freeloaders
hanging on as winds rustle their shirts
and jackets and hair without hats.
Fast talking and slow moving salesmen
hawk everything, especially what they don’t
own. Kids hopscotch in front of a candy store.
Greased hair and leather jacketed boys chew
gum and spit.
There’s geometry in the partial structures
of half curtains and open windows.
It’s all waiting into tomorrow unless I sleep
in or run away.
Roger Singer 