snow drift,
ride the busy street.
many windows,
and far too many wonders.
i put boots on,
ready to take off,
and in that instant
a knot in my heel.
is this a sign to slow
down? stay put
in my old town?
but the old town
brings back old
stories, truth,
and fables.
to start fresh,
I guess so.
so travel west-
as west as Chicago
gets.
to see my Katherine smile,
it's warms my soul,
it brings me back home-
even when I'm far
from home.
To hear the blunder
from outside,
it's great.
Things I'd miss most
are shooting stars
and constellations
near the moon.
But who am I kidding,
you can't see shooting
star in New Jersey anyway.
To throw the Newports in
the freezer, to replace them
with fudge-pops could be a
start.
Starting fresh could mean
starting over.
I cannot help but
hurt from wanting
what the heart
wants.
And who knows,
a year or two later
my heart could be
closer to the Sun and
the Moon-
floating in Space,
or dead on the floor.
I can not help but follow
what the heart wants
right now.
to sip tea and coffee,
not knowing what I really
prefer, not hearing from
my Mother, knowing that
she really does not
approve- how can
I not just want
anything more
than just some
personal space?
to sit on the couch
and read every book
or magazine that comes
my way?
how can I tell the people
that I love that I had
a breakdown? I lost
control of myself?
I screamed, I kicked,
I spit, I swore?
To throw it all away.
how many times
will I wash my mouth out
and learn to watch
what I say, when this
breath down my
neck has never
been more cold?