Saturday, December 31, 2011


When the earth’s eye shuts into darkness I fight to keep mine open.
Every night I hang around
like some schlup
standing on the side of the tracks
while the rest of the world – riding coach – sleeps soundly in their seats.

From the platform I watch them take-off
and stare idly at my un-punched ticket
trying not to think about
what it all means
to let oneself
be carried

But I can’t help it.

They must be going places.

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