Sometimes

An old man concentrates on his cigarette,
newspaper blowing randomly in the endless rain
instantly captured on Polaroid film...
majestic wind fluttering anxiously
playing havoc games, evil in the water,
relentlessly pounding and shaking in the ground.

On a silent bench anchored with steadfast concrete
echoes the howl of rain laughing
and you, holding on in life,
praying to remain the same but
changing with every raindrop.

Sometimes in the windows
everything looks perfectly equal
and affordable--
and with you these things are never quite the same--
aching in the planes,
blowing rings of smoke
while the wounded world around you
is the playground of the one
you only meet one time.

 

1998-2000 linda lee tritton


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