by Greg Santos
after Edward Hopper
What is the sound
of midnight?
A lone barman
wiping down a glass
under the hum of
florescent bulbs.
What’ll it be,
friend?
Tipping
my fedora low.
Starting to like the idea
of having a friend.
The only
other folks here:
A fella and
the red haired lady.
Together
but separate.
We four beacons lost
in the buzz of thought.
— from Juniper Volume 5, Issue 1