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.