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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