It was an afterthought
clinking around
in my mind’s junk drawer
full of used batteries,
colored pencil shavings
and unfinished sketches of tree houses.
The new year hovers over me
like an eager lover at sunrise
coaxing sleepy eyes.
I sit on a curb
in front of Wells Fargo
eating cold spaghetti with a spoon
wondering where the last year has gone.
Perhaps I’ve spent too much time
waiting in parking lots
or having conversations with strangers
at old hotel bars
absorbing recollections
of the first kiss.
I could care
if they get home safely--
the path is straight
and this town is small
to make it back by dark.
By the time I show up
the year will simply be
an afterthought.
© 2012 d.c.p.
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