my words

tears in the dust

sitting at the bar
in casa ciriaco
the cana cold comfort
in my hand
the images of time
gone by on the walls
echo in the words
spoken
around me
days gone dust
will not stay down
and as with all ghosts
they bring the weight
of chains
the cold sweat glass
against my palm
calls other ghosts
clanking into my mind
days of greater heat
when we shared
so much
that drops fell
from me
to you