“It’s cold outside tonight…
It’s a [Mon]day; a national [Mon]day concerning national pastimes and celebrated with national events. A while ago, just a while after the sun had stopped casting shadows, I was seated on the front stoop of my apartment here, drawing with the burnt end of a dead cigarette. I always try to draw faces first. I lit another cigarette from what, when smoked, will be among my last. Tonight’s for walking. The street that runs before me is quiet. All of these streets are quiet. Tonight should be for walking. But my nerves were set off by a robbery some two nights back. My mind still careens at the jaw of my front door. The mind teeters, finally whirls off, the memory of the theft lurching forward from the dark. People are held up on that far corner; that bus is late again.”
-2/7/2010
