Mystic Night Watchman On Mainroad Poem by Martin Lochner

observing Friday nights
fluctuating twilight patterns
of flashing faces, feet and wheels

the night watchman yogi
reeled into a suburban main road trance
becoming one with soot coloured smudges of move on bodies
then it comes:
the massive midnight spread
that silences the once busy tarmac vein
a soft mist mingles with a hot mountain breeze
and the wonderful smell of petroleum grease tickles the nose

the spectacle slightly disrupted by a stumbling tramp
with pink stiletto heels
she is now looking at him and the feelings is one
of wolves and stray dogs that roams under a smiling sickle moon