Thursday, August 09, 2007

Walking meditation














perched on the bridge
of my nose
a transitory stance
a question put forward

stroll through
the antique district
shop windows staged
with dainty scenes
cast in exquisite Spode motifs
floral ballets across porcelain
and ceramic tableaux
enchanting but
the lust is missing

the roar of engines and
trains trombone and clatter
the sky dotted with birds
concrete and asphalt
feverish in the midday sun
send miasmal waves upward
children in the park
yip insouciantly
lunch crowd laughter
burbles along the sidewalk
tabled eyes of strangers
caught mid-sentence
and tossed aside

no purpose in this wandering
this downtown floundering
time moves me in the direction
that I need to go
my feet know the way back
but the grip is unrelenting
and pulls me toward
a destination
that trails behind


© 2001 Melissa Songer

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