Thursday, December 17, 2009

Apartment 3C

A half moon hangs
on a pole near the corner.
It’s artificial rays leading me
onto the next block
as my feet crunch along
the white sugar
that God has dusted
off of the stars
and sprinkled
on the sidewalk.

I am the only marks
on natures purest
The wind whirls
around me and
dances with my
tattered scarf…
some days it feels
like a noose around
my neck.
I trudge onward
to the cold confines
of the place where
I sleep, bathe and
eat with not a soul
in sight
in a dwelling I could
call home.

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