Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter

Monday, December 05, 2005

Alms For A Bandit

The world outside
is a snowglobe
well past dusk with the dust
collecting lightly on
everything below,
privacy fences, patios, tables
and benches... The hood of that
red Mini-Cooper from under which
a solitary shape ventures
in search of table scraps
from a rusty barrel fifty feet away.
So here's to the unmistakeable
masked one, chilled to the bone and
stealth-logged through intent stillness
of a late night landscape of
exhausted iron giants at rest.

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