a horse in fishnet stockings

a horse in fishnet stockings appears in the condensation on the window
it turns into a wolf
she sure looks lonely
my companion discusses his thesis on the raping of God to death
while white steam from black coffee rises up
past postcards on the pillar
of tiki girls backdropped by red
with dreams just like anyone
smiling mechanical smiles
who must be very old now
maybe even dead
or definitely dead
definitely maybe
the library book in my pocket becoming another day overdue
another day
within days upon end upon end