Monday, August 18, 2008


This my 100th post, my how time flies

Gray silted clouds jotting across

the skies like scud missiles, WALK

DON”T WALK, the sign blinks.

A herd of blue-haired women carrying

Bloomingdale bags stand at the corner,

but I am the color of

asphalt dark and oily. “Can you tell

me how far the museum is?” A woman

rasps like dried seaweed. I don’t know,

I’m a tourist, I say, I don’t belong.

Drivers hurl curses at me as I run

across the street. A sign blinks,



June said...

If I didn't know you were in Texas, I'd swear you were in Boca Raton!

Nathan said...

100 posts? It doesn't seem like it has been very long. Congratulations! This poem is excellent. My favorite is "I am the color of / asphalt." And I love how you incorporate the street sign.

Cynthia said...

Oh, kind of say, a wisp of dusk
circling around day, much too

SunShine said...

Another fabulous piece. You have such a way with imagery that immediately brings the scene alive and plays in the minds eye. xo