I have sat beside a number of snow-numbed
train stations. I am the smoking man, invisible
in my ivy hat and grey wool coat.
I have been thinking of you
for decades occasionally
sipping coffee from a paper cut.
The cats have more sense than to loiter
where the dog with the compound fracture
begs scraps among the cigarette butts and slush.
It would break your heart a thousand times
in quick succession, create a fluttering
like a cold pulseless breeze. The old women
on the wet stone steps sell onions, parsley
potatoes, pickles, spices and wooden matches. The
veteran of the old war sleeps hard on his
shoulder, and I think of you again
**** it.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 3:15 PM UTC
I have sat beside a number of snow-numbed
train stations. I am the smoking man, invisible
in my ivy hat and grey wool coat.
I have been thinking of you
for decades occasionally
sipping coffee from a paper cut.
The cats have more sense than to loiter
where the dog with the compound fracture
begs scraps among the cigarette butts and slush.
It would break your heart a thousand times
in quick succession, create a fluttering
like a cold pulseless breeze. The old women
on the wet stone steps sell onions, parsley
potatoes, pickles, spices and wooden matches. The
veteran of the old war sleeps hard on his
shoulder, and I think of you again
**** it.
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