Thursday, February 4, 2010

Habits Break.

No "Stop Requested," no light
blinks on, in a pull for home.
I'm the only soul who missed
the corner, everyone notices,
everyone questions, remembering
morning whispers, of wind rolling
rounder and rounder, like hand patted fat
on the torso of a snowman.
Voices yawn loudly to a close
as habits break, with stumbling steps
down the aisle, out the door
into stuttering darkness of worn plans
comfortably familiar, if unloved...
tonight, I am Unknown.

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