I avoid going anywhere near where she lives, skirting her
street even on my way to the Riverside we both love so much
I'm scared I might
catch a glimpse of her seated on her windowsill, smoke billowing out into the
end of summer air, scared too she might glimpse me and slam the window shut
Or has she already done metaphorically
I go to the river to
wash myself of my sins
if they are sins of the mind or flesh or both
to stroll the
promenade to view the skyline to find a place for myself amid the massive
landscape of concrete and steel
all too inhuman a
scale against which I can't possibly measure up, as I feel I have failed to do
on a smaller scale with her sometimes
it's a blessing to be invisible and not measure up
No comments:
Post a Comment