Sunday morning
the radio’s on in Borbazon
the Del Monte hum
laced in cocktail smoke
Borba dances to the groove
seven and seven
and it’s almost eleven,
the lost hour
Sunday morning
the radio’s gone
shades drawn on an empty room
bare walls echoing memory
the last light in Snug Harbor
has gone out
and the hum has faded into traffic
as it waves against the shore
and out there,
beyond the line of sea,
a voice among the waves,
“It’s all good.”
-for John Borba 7/13/12 R.I.P.