A time to write

Writing my life away
in a cloudy day
on the el train,
taking a glimpse
every now and then
at the haggard faces,
the oddly-matched rooftops,
overflowing dumpsters,
smelly back alleys,
the other side of
Chicago’s skyline.

Writing my life away
in the nineteen nineties,
when the future
never seems
to become present,
and the present
becomes past
without a whisper.

Writing my life away
in a coffee shop,
till closing time,
somewhere in the big city,
and an old Cuban song
lingers in the air.

© Eytán Lasca, 2002