Still There

Still there. Not anywhere else, but here in the beach of the king. Not many make this reference because they’re unaware of the language exuding from the unseen. After raindrops downpour from full clouds everything glistens. Heavy shivers the second it’s delivered by his steady spirit not just in his prime, not boxed or the ekg of stocks. All his, and still anti-trusts are levied against the divine. The refraction of mirror-like light instantly goes outward into the night. It’s as if the one who plots the drops is listening, still there. Proclaim your faithfulness in the evening.

A shelter when it’s needed most. Posted up not found in the daily post. A black canopy fully open while Citizen Same is collapsed on the flat bed in the most comfortable position. Next to the snore are lit posters looking to score patrons like dive bars. Their time is limited out front in public to become a private affair like a black widow hour glass. The sordid is recorded by the placid puddles, dilated. Advertisements are locked in display cases for street credibility. Up front, enticements lie before your eyes with an umbrella of support.