you heard the cracked bell toll

so you might try to be sly

but death is the winner

all gray and foggy

inside a paradox

adrift inside an ancient box

and it reaches out a bony hand

pointing toward the nearest street

where you meet

in private

looking outside from an open window

for a safe place to go

but the train stopped at your station

when you least expected it.

it wasn't a day like all the other days:

cheap Champagne and cigarettes on silver trays

hot blood 

red wine

eyes staring in space and time

you're jumping over tombstones laid on the ground

without making a sound

looking around

but underneath the trap door is for you

wearing two boots or one shoe

in the steady rain and sucking mud

on a live grenade or a dud

dressed for the dance naked or in costume

on a normal Friday afternoon

you heard the cracked bell toll

calling your soul.