sidewalk

went along with it, surely the hours pass for more than this (dirt under anils, steam rising from sidewalk storm drains) the air is heavy, cold- wlking is a new fun (worthiness and all) so steps beneath branches of a swooping tree (chlorophyl tears) and leans against the thick bark, thinking of the beautiful afternoons i've known between the pages of a catacomb life, dark but sweet (wise embers) but it isn't always easy in the streetlight and half the time we're just trying our best to survive, get by- so i'm taking pictures of women with strollers, twenty-somethings with laundry satchels thrown across their back, shoudlers, a retiree with grocery bags (she's wandering home) and i'm thinking about winter time and it goes and comes and how easy it is to miss how easy it is not to try, spend years with curled fingers around money or focused on the turning of pages the wasting away of days and how can one walk ever make up for it?

2004-03-09 | 11:26 a.m.
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