a lonely trip to Tripoli
where abandoned motel light bulbs dangle in violent winds
like the balls of a bull in motion
casting concrete eerie shadows
on squeaky doors with no keys
screaming softly
as if mourning the death of a once buoyant city
a lone guitarist plays for the listening winds
messages that never reach the ears
of the sleeping, heaving waves
of oceans in distant lands
Mowabites Worldwide 