Wednesday, January 10, 2007

The Jaunt

a large trashcan
a fir placed upon a curb
the grass, his eyes both damp
overcoats and chapstick his only barriers
a long cold night
unanswered calls

a deep biting wind
a moon, a mirror and memories
all haunting.

a destination with empty pockets
and a loose grip on reality.

native landscapes captured by
bridges, builders, boundaries.
the humming of rotation and routine.
the blazing fumes of boredom
and the faint smell of gasoline.

a vacant parking lot
with a no parking sign
and only time to think
to adjust
to realize

depression and despair replaced by
headlights and hope
sleep and cereal

sunlight making its way out of the night sky
a familiar face, a smile



a familiar face

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