The coffee house loop
that never ends
sounds heavenly
among the laptoppers.
Failure is not an option.
The fanfare of the horns
and the swell of the hi-hat
roll on like spooky dreams.
Fingers dance —
they fly like bats in a cave.
The gods if there are any
shall protect us
until it’s closing time.
And then we’ll rattle off.
“Mortal Coil” © 2018 by Jan Herman