Selected Poems
Walking with Roslyn
Having turned our backs from the sun,
we went to cinema, in a well-to-do Wednesday town.
unaware, sidewalks are rolled up at eight.
A thankful wind wove us together, a river of leaves.
We wander, scraping across an empty main street,
cling to puddles, rushing to lose color like tea.
In darkness, wild geese rest and float on the pond
beside the empty lot, honking only responses to traffic.
The reflective white bellies are moored by the light
from above, lamp-lit windows of nearby homes.
Where work-weary owners are unaware of tonight.
There was no one left to tell them what to look for.
We, vagabond intruders, not having paid for the privilege
of living here, are ushered away by stares of cynical police.
We leave with the breeze that blew us here.
we went to cinema, in a well-to-do Wednesday town.
unaware, sidewalks are rolled up at eight.
A thankful wind wove us together, a river of leaves.
We wander, scraping across an empty main street,
cling to puddles, rushing to lose color like tea.
In darkness, wild geese rest and float on the pond
beside the empty lot, honking only responses to traffic.
The reflective white bellies are moored by the light
from above, lamp-lit windows of nearby homes.
Where work-weary owners are unaware of tonight.
There was no one left to tell them what to look for.
We, vagabond intruders, not having paid for the privilege
of living here, are ushered away by stares of cynical police.
We leave with the breeze that blew us here.
