Photo Finish


Nerves terminally frayed
like fiber-optic threads
unevenly
broken off at the ends,
jangling spurs
working their way
up and down
your spine.

A little prick
here or there (especially
there) to let you know
you're awake
dreaming
still crunchingly conscious
of the soothing background
noises.

Blinds
creaking across the street.
Scrape of a pair
of worn-down dress shoes.
A whining that seems
to be coming
from somewhere much too
close by.

You take another
handful
of frazzled filaments,
stroke them
across your virtual whetstone,
admire the way
they glitter
under the neon lights.


--Jeffrey Park

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