I've become
what I promised myself I wouldn't
a zombie
writing these words
onto this sheet of paper
I had to reference the 110 bus for the date
November 5, 2010
floated across an electronic screen
it's grown colder
colder than before
The leaves
no longer on the trees
have adorn the ground
in various shades of yellows and oranges
but mostly brown
The dampness of the air
only makes things appear
more *****
It almost makes me long for snow
at least then things will appear clean
only I will know that underneath it's surface
lays the dirt trash and clutter
making my streets a swamp
residual poverty
The Mystic River almost looks appealing today
I wish I could bathe in the decadence
of it's slime and dirt
and blown tires and shopping carts
an urban soup
The station is full of it's usual assembly line
of rude people
who's lives are far more important than yours
"No thank you", man who gives away the paper
There's no good news today
The rain is falling in a pattern on the train window
all around the head of a  man
directly across from me
almost in the shape of a halo
maybe he is God
or at least and Angel
"Stand behind the yellow line
doors are closing"