Morning Meeting
1 min readAug 30, 2022

Published in the 90's

Engine revs at the stoplight

Fearful the cold wind with suck out its power.

Wizened leaves race or run or chase

Performing gymnastic death throes

The night is wet and cold

The first storm of the season

And I drive.

To just keep moving, to meet someone, I think

To stay warm.

Engine shudders in the parking space on Broadway.

Coming quietly to a standstill I leave with my car

Waiting like a dog on a leash

Resentful but obedient.

I see an old woman begging change, thin in her coat.

She’s a ruined painting and

Fine gentlemen in their leather coats and cock-rings pass her by.

Grandmothers clutching letters move towards the post

Scowling at me, in the way.

And me not sure who I was supposed to meet

Or how long I’ve stood waiting

The streetlights are too bright with the windy rain.

I wander back.

Engine stalls on the first turn I left it alone for too long, the wind got to it.

The dying leaves laugh and roll forward as turning the key I say, “Please,” and it starts.

Leaving the car is dangerous.

I drive again towards the next stopping place

To meet the someone I thought I met before, did I?

To avoid the wind, the leaves.

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Morning Meeting