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I Knew Passion


Michael D. Petti

i knew passion
in a small dark room a mattress and
empty bottles
quickly departing
before the door it seems was opened to admit
stealing through a corridor upon a stair
vomiting dimness on each descending step

so long now

to a mocking welcome mat
as a climax into night
brings 3 a.m. streets where
friendless traffic lights obey forsaken laws
at heartless crosswalks selling sophistry
with their signposts which at every turn insult
when cold becomes a lover
and nowhere is a place

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