i roam the familiar avoiding
those i should love
like i wandered through alleys in foreign cities
beyond the understanding of others i chose not to visit
in search of cloudy horizons burning with brilliance
i walk the winds of november
a few stubborn
leaves still cling to ink branches
alleys that smell of
last night's beer
corners reeking of urine
others dine together in restaurants
along front street
where with clear plastic sheets they've cast out the
weather
replaced it with music from women--
up and coming
musicians or someone well known
cup of espresso gone cold in my
hand
i find a sheltered moment of sun
it's caught on a wall of old brick
without windows
casting a light from some other country
traffic noise pauses
the roar of distant surf
falls around corners of buildings
along paths i'm unable to follow
lingering light dwindles
i am left with the diminishing sound my of own footsteps
wondering if they bear even a single genuine thing
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