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.