Mark My Words Again, @PumpHouseArts

One Night In La Crosse,

By Terry Scott Niebeling


An end day sun etched itself along a green bluff horizon.


Below a town settled in for the nightlife, speckled skies light above, those who gathered with love.



Sepia of eve seeped in, adding value to an abundantly abstract land; rolling hills and valley deep focused in the distance.


A drink, a coffeehouse, and cultural sin:  carnal pleasures, felt throughout and within.



For better or for worse, the light-pole stands the test of time.

Helping those legless along the way, to the river, to home, to an affair, to the end of a line.




For better or for worse, no light to shed eyes to the plight, celebrate, antagonize, follies of fright.


To bed we go as the river flows away with the night.


As morning is broken we see what is stolen by the flooding in of sunlight.



A late night early morning witness to this.  Rub eyes to see nothing amiss.


Empty bottles, crushed cans, and plastic wrappings take it all in from the street corner.




And within hours it begins again.



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