Impossible

Cold universe in a cup of instant coffee.

Echo of dreams unsaid.

A pigeon hobbles on a war-torn balcony,

Its shadow fat like a deluded man,

While smoke winds through the cracks of the ordinary.

Dusty bookshelves lined with forgotten ambitions,

A mute radio singing the blues.

Rusty swings creak at dawn,

Nobody watches them sway.

Don’t settle for the alley cat’s life,

Chasing ghost mice,

Feigning contentment in a thieving dance.

Step into the impossible daylight,

Where the air smells of electric storms,

And the ground quivers beneath

Old impossible wants.