A Time to Write

A Time to Write

Writing my life away
in a cloudy day
on the el train,
taking a glimpse
every now and then

  at the haggard faces,
  the oddly-matched rooftops,
         overflowing dumpsters,
         smelly back alleys,
the other side of
                   Chicago’s skyline.

Writing my life away
                         in the nineteen nineties,
when the future
                      never seems
                      to become present,
and the present
                         becomes past
                         without a whisper.

Writing my life away
                          in a coffee shop,
                          till closing time,
                          somewhere in the big city,
and an old Cuban song
                          lingers in the air.

© Eytán Lasca, 2002