2.15.2008

Patience is a Vice


I feel them,
Behind my shoulders,
Shifting the ice of sidewalks,
They are my approaching wall,
They are what I will meet if I do not,
Never turn back.
I see them,
Through shop windows with painted words,
The fog on their breaths,
My every long winded thought,
In dark coats they wait,
For me.
For me.

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