The Charity Of Night

The Charity Of Night testo

big city Europa – July of 64 – it’s 5am
weather blowing bitter off the baltic
car slows beside him as he walks
hubcap slow revolution
jaundiced looking pockmarked face round in window
short greasy black beard
a couple of language stabs settle on english
“it’s cold – i give you ride
don’t you want to kiss me?”
this goes on halfway across the cobbled bridge
driver pulls ahead – gets out by the construction
fence
ambles toward him rubbing the bulgs in his pants
in his jacket is the revolver
the hand is already in the pocket for warmth and
fingers slide easily around wood grips
slow as that predator’s footsteps the gun comes out
arm straightens – sight blade bisecting yellow forehead
wind- blue metal streetlight – faint twilight
shining on the corner of stones
wave on wave of life
like the great wide ocean’s roll
haunting hands of memory
pluck silver strands of soul
the damage and the dying done
the clarity of light
gentle bows and glasses raised
to the charity of night
slow revolution – 1985 – crosswise in a hammock
in the hot volcanic hills
it’s 3am the night after the air raid
from the ridge she watched A375, like ugly gulls
make a dozen swooping passes over some
luckless town
maybe ten kliks beyond the border
in the distance the pacific glimmered silver
now lascivious laughter floats on the darkness
from the police
post next door-
male voices – and a woman’s –
little clouds of desire painted round the edges with rum
in the muddy street a pig suddenly screams
wave on wave of life
like the great wide ocean’s roll
haunting hands of memory
pluck silver strands of soul
the damage and the dying done
the clarity of light
gentle bows and glasses raised
to the charity of night
pacific glimmers silver
moon full over shadow mansion
west coast – can’t say when
there is incense and the heat driven scent of
flowers
tongue slide over soft skin
love pounds in veins brains buzzing balls of lust
finger twine in wet hair
limbs twist and roll
on the dresser wax drips in slow motion down
the long side of a
black candle –
ecstatic halo of flame and pheromone –
wave on wave of life
like the great wide ocean’s roll
haunting hands of memory
pluck silver strands of soul
the damage and the dying done
the clarity of light
gentle bows and glasses raised
to the charity of night