NOTHIN HAPPENIN

My head has been emptied
of its dance,
of its music,
of its magic.
It feels
hollow.
Women
no longer
beckon;
the dog,
old
& mangy,
no longer
barks.

There's mysteries
aplenty under
the clothes;
whispers between
the folds
of a skirt.

The silence
unnerves me.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2015