Archive
11/27/08
Thanksgiving Morning
This warm, early Thursday morning, The thoroughfares I traverse, unhurriedly, are deserted, As if Earth had been scourged by a death-breath.
I violate every stop sign, run every red light, Come to a three-minute halt at green signals, Then zoom ahead, just after they turn yellow, turn red.
Somehow, my defiance seems right for my mood. Being alone, on a holiday, having no home to go to, Can play havoc with your smile,
Make you realize how formidably empty life can be, When all the once-familiar streets you used to follow Lead, in all directions, nowhere you've been before,
Beckon you to take risks that threaten no one, Least of all your fluid shadow, As it maneuvers through the traffic of your sadness.
11/27/08
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