Nestled on the boulevard of pretentious lifestyles,
a grizzled cantina whispered in its Kafkaesque gloom
of lives lived in surreal states of grace
that shrunk to become shadow when four crossed the threshold
and bridged the ethereal gap between realism’s phantasy.
Stirred alkaloids sipped in the saloon’s bitter ale ambience
by a court held in subdued utterances in a darkened corner
and wonders on the strangers that sat
releasing the heat of their knowledge and anima
in a steam that seeps and disquietly fills the room.
Observations around and over shoulders by the newcomers
grip souls. Regulars look and talk without speaking,
singles try to ignore befouled seeds dredged
by an ancient malevolence.
And then when eye contact by one reveals the truth
the four stand, having made only an appearance
and leaving their presence known they departed,
followed by slitted eyes until the front door slammed.
One mounted a pale horse, and the four rode away.