Roger Camp
Originally published in The Evergreen Review Issue 123 in June, 2010.
Voices
a curious thing, these windows
at night they become walls
from the inside black
turning eyes upon themselves
cold glass is a good conductor
street noises come through clearly
the morning commute
raising the dead
blanketing the sidewalks
with November’s withered leaves
while nylon whispering legs
crush them in their wake
each day crashing my ears
the world outside my window
speaks
I listen
rainman
He came inside,
his light blue coat
dark with rain,
ate a sandwich
and something cold to drink
and left.
The rain was pouring
off the windows.
Red green blue man
In the house
a window
on the window
rain water
in the water light
red light green light blue light
from Sandy’s sign
Frozen Custard-Hamburgers
through the window
and the water
in the light
a face
red green blue water
streaming off the face
at midnight Sandy’s sign shuts off
the face switches black
behind the pane.
