Friday, December 17, 2010

Associations: Gap-toothed strangers, Pink Floyd, etc...

Contemplating one or other
lying noble Roman
searching the bottom of the row
of the history shelf
even less aware
than usually i am

Turned abruptly to my right
not thinking or glancing
not giving a damn
for oncoming traffic
you know

Nearly plowed her to the ground
poor thing
nearly murdered randomly
on a Saturday afternoon
at Waldenbooks
by a book-drunk stranger who
should have had his browsing license
long ago.

A pretty one, she was
kind eyes, brown and wide
with an amused, ironic mouth.
And a smile that graced
even reckless men
who menace chain-store aisles.

Mumbled apologies
so little aware was i.
No problem, said she,
looking up at me,
still smiling
as she squeezed on by.

And i
and i
i looked at her

then began my descent
into my favored hell
nothing beneath
to break my fall
just fell

and fell
and fell

into the place
where's kept her face.
And i reduced.
And she was not.
And nothing


was all.

Contemplating Romans
at Waldenbooks

was all.

(then darkness, again...some's forever, it seems)

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