- Books, Literature, and Writing
i want to say something but don't know where to begin
perhaps i should start with this is the first day of summer.
Approaching the city traffic circle
I saw an ambulance with its lights on chasing another
with its lights off.
A running man tossed red traffic cones
into a slow moving truck.
A woman on a blue bicycle carried
a brown dog in a black backpack.
These are the things you see in the city, sometimes.
Graffiti graced trains slip under the overpass.
A woman jogging jumps over a green hydrant.
Smoke emits from a manhole underground.
It isn't even midday and the birds
have fallen asleep on the other side of this planet.
A cool breeze disturbs
the famished trees.
The imaginary taxi has carried me from the former anonymous place to somewhere south of there. I have given up the memory of a house soon to be forgotten. What I own I will carry with me. I hold no anger anymore against my enemies. The horizon is the vision through my windshield and my rear view mirror is fogged over with an afternoon mist.
A silver plane saucers over
a pristine field. The brown buildings
and glass shine. The traffic circle statue
is head with its arms down and palms up.
It is graced slightly with water from the fountain
from where I am the mist seems like a halo;
the statue almost seems to weep.