THIRTY FIRST OF MARCH

At this seaside café it's you I adore.
I've come to talk, you withdraw. 
Silent conversation with Friday
Drifts aweigh. 
On my corrugated forehead I hear a tick
A stick running quick
In anticipation of a phrase…
You walk off, my eyes swing sideways.
Carnival lights up a gaping clown. 
Midnight, I wear April Fool's crown.




Frank Corso