Night is a strange town, windows
blank as lifeless eyes, shadows
haunting doorways.
tumbleweeds, race the wind.
In and out of saloons, on fractured melodies
drift ruined men.
Half-heard
quarrels threaten violence,
and soon the thwack of fists
assaults the air, the crack of bone
joining the mosquito chorus
to peals of shattering glass.
Drinking deep the memories
of distance homesteads,
pray that dawn will save you,
and soon. Here, where lifespans
are measured in hours,
they don’t like strangers,
and even the locals
are just passing through.