Low Paper Lanterns

Opiate-numbed and whiskey-colored in late afternoon,
Light followed its nose to the floorboards,
Wishing it had lungs to puncture with the shattered glass
(that morning it had broken the window,
needing a breath of fresh air).
Later, in the evening, it stumbled among gay men and
Angels on a smoky porch, unsure of itself, slinking
From cigarette smoulders to low paper lanterns,
Teasing the resident snake charmer as he closed
His eyes, bending to blind the piano-player into finding
Clearer notes before it slipped, satisfied with the change,
Into sleep and out of view.