Resolution Of Sorts

5am and a resolution of sorts
rests comfortably between a
meekly misguided early morning
erection and a sense of really
being someone else when
the shit hits the fan

but lights are green again and 
celebrations might begin subtly
in gentle light of another day’s
benign resurrection – sounds
outside are almost the same,
uncontentious, anonymous

this was where I came in you
say, like an out-of-date act of
contrition, there is nothing to
contend with besides these
ambiguous fixtures, fascination
sailed when the tide turned
© 12 May 2009, I. D. Carswell