Midnight sitting at the end of a white and scribble Formica bar,
almost alone,
Two old Spanish women,
are also in this long one-room pool hall bar,
one is working, the other is keeping her company,
we are all drinking coffee.
Your nights drive me to these places,
a random silence alone in my room,
can take the air from my lungs.
my gloves, my hat, my scarf, my coat, my keys,
my life full of sorrow.
Your nights drive me to bad coffee and good company,
your absence is smoke in my face,
ice water pouring down upon my chest,
cold teeth in the wind cutting into my ears harder the faster I go.
We all agree it is a dreadful night,
particularly the air.
We stare at the darkness out the window as if it were the sky,
we are thankful to not be lost in it.

________________________________________________

Herbert Foster Kaufman has published short fiction and poetry in The Underwood Review, Sugar Mule, Cherry Bleeds, Wasted Space, Errata, Thought Magazine, Outsider Ink, Gothic Fairy Tales, Me Three, and Caveat Lector. He is the author of A Testament to Grace, a novel of lust and evil, available on Amazon.

It's Keeping Us Up At Night

We’ve got a stack of new books to read. They’re waiting for us, lined up against the wall next to the bed, whispering mysterious words in the night, laughing at our literary pursuits, and pretty much causing us daily fits of bookish anxiety. Anxiety comes in many forms and affects lots of people, but it seems writers are especially victimized by its mighty claw. Can you relate? We know you can. Today, however, we are not a victim. Instead we’re reveling in the bounty. Today we relish the always-expanding syllabus of required reading. Amy Bloom discusses her work in the New Haven Advocate, literary heroes are scrutinized in Student Pulse and a new book looks back on the early days of Patti Smith’s punkishness. Poets John Ashbery and Daniel Nester are reviewed, Joshua Ferris releases a second novel and Jerzy Pilch — our nomination for best-named author — gets his booze filled in Three Percent. Speaking of booze, you might want to get your hands on some. Hell, it works for us, and is known to cure all forms of bookish anxiety. — Kevin Murphy

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