sidewalk, concrete, cement
surrounded by solid buildings
a piece is missing
intentional dirt and a
transplanted tree
winter without leaves
i’m on my way to somewhere
passing i glance at the
branches
and i am struck by its barren
frame
a nakedness of which it is not
ashamed
my harried pace falters
turn a corner then go back
and stare at the tree
enter a bar next to me
and order
grab a pen before the bartender
sees
the tree is just outside
i view it through glass
i can feel the time pass
like a ticking clock in an
empty room
approaching the season of
blooms
and i write on my arm,
“learn to dance on dreary days
that drizzle down defeat”
i drain my glass and order a
repeat
it is winter and i feel the
heat
as i put aside the pen
i have forgotten where i was
going
and no longer care
at my reflection in the mirror
i stare
look at my arm and then at the
tree
i nod at the bartender to line
me up three
***
No comments:
Post a Comment