Stubborn fool that I am, this really happened.
february 2008
huddled in the glow of a coke machine
i pretend that it gives warmth
close in two hours
minimal passers by, no security appearance since arrival
no security anywhere besides the type that tells me to move along
eyes stinging, memory stinging
this city is no longer home
and still i refuse to leave it
this happened here, that happened there
it should not linger this way
and yet it does
and so i linger also, it's become my only purpose
these streets taste like bile even in sunlight
i hate the sunny days most of all
few as they are
were there more when she walked with me?
she's around every corner
so i move in straight lines
everything has changed and nothing still has for me
my load is heavy and i am unclean
i chose this
she chose the same
2 comments:
Solid poem. I like it, sir.
The images are strong and powerful, which I'm sure was your intention.
thanks a lot. i hated it back when i first wrote it for obvious reasons but after looking at it much later i realized it wasn't half bad even though i recall wanting to actually have more imagery included when i first viewed it. now there's a sentence.
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