Friday, January 20, 2017

The Greenway

down the greenway
narrow strip of emerald
between concrete and dirty snow
mysteriously free of garbage
now that i think of it
except at the very end
where two metal fences meet
bits of concrete strewn like a giant
flinging stones
bottles and pages and trinkets
all blown into the corner
under the scotch pines
i'm sitting on a broken cinder block
watching a black cat
watching me
from the other side of the barbed wire fence
among the faded shipping containers
beside the growing tower
under the swing of the cranes
sweeping the grey sky

it might be raining
a little
when it's windy a white tarp
blows through an open window in the tower
like a curtain in a lady's dressing room
and soothes the neuronal firing
that is the mind i carry

the mind that
moves quickly like the cat
running as I move towards it
moves steadily
in the wind like the tarp curtain
spits like the rain
little piercing touches
is dirty like the edge of the fences where
mud meets garbage

i sit
for motion to cease
and stillness
to return

perhaps not today
back down the greenway
i carry god with me

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