Cold Friday Night

A masterless wind rips through the alleyway Four dark circles form in the pokets of my jeans Trash litters the path home, the path to warmth Strange women call and cry with shrill voices Their tobacco stained teeth threateningly glisen Menacingly the rain pummels relentlessly downward Just as a howling pierces like an arrow The over-alert mind thrown to chaos And the ruble of that night's events Did they know, where they watching? And none of the pieces on the devil's chessboard Ever seem to obey the king and queen Marching to the beat of a different drummer Completely submerged in the cold of winter The end of the week never means the end of things Yet and what should it really matter? A knife cuts just as easily one day as another