Tuesday, January 12, 2010

This time I hate the city

with it’s dusky rhythm

of old Irishmen and tall Swedes,

the drunk college girl singing

Radiohead in the alley behind my building.

"The winter is goddamn cold"

the old men say without looking at each other

without enthusiasm

without saying goddamn.

Always the black river inks along with a Cajun swagger,

the sea, a thousand miles away

in every direction.

It’s hard not to feel landlocked.

Tomorrow if my station wagon

is swallowed by a snowdrift

I will rise like a will o’ the wisp

and wander some heady southern swamp.

Lost in my own wild May mind,

a summer dress clings to my thighs.

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