Where I Am

Bathed
in the warm
       glow of neon
   seeping through 
       winds
   chilled by Freon
Shadows rest here
    never dancing
The floor hums
         rhythms
     through darkness
            beneath a clattering
     forty-five
   voices
as I
   sit alone
in the silence of
        one
swallowed whole
     by a series
of choices.

 (Written 2.5 years ago during a lonely night at the Skylark Cafe shortly after moving to Seattle, while my wife was still in Upstate NY)