Some Nights...Shiva Some nights, the glasses clink and tinkle like the ornaments in your hair, Shiva! An inner night falls, dropping like a lover's dress. And the dancers have as many arms as you do, filled and empty with implements of comprehension. Then with my eyes open wide, in amazement, like a sentry whose long night duty has ended, I watch a dawn's light infiltrate the bar, making stale beer smell sweet, and a bartender and his drunks look like gods. Stephen Williamson |