By Anthony Palma
A night like this one.
We played checkers with words.
We spun the pistol,
to see which one of us would make it.
Between the hands of cards and the
smiles
and the surety of youth,
we knew we�d all make it.
A night.
This one.
The three of us
passed through
Lord and Taylor�s
on the way
to the bar.
The organ in the store
played cascades that fell
unfelt
on the passersby.
It made me think
of the abandoned dog
running after
his owner�s car, knowing
that he could never catch up.