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{anywhere, plus home} lisa gordon When air sings in the wind tunnels between skyscrapers, you walking by, half blown away, clutching hand to coat – the birds are there of course but all you feel is heady cold – wingless, found out. The building on the corner sways imperceptibly. A crow's caw, but is that for announcing or mourning? The big little city you've come to call home is like a note of distress reassessing. How pretty the young girls in their autumn clothes. Much good this does you, changing sides of the street in search of an empty pathway. The girls are looking for boys, trying not to look, weary in a slant open sort of way. You live miles from here, but that is par for the course when running out of ways to belong taking to the boulevards seems a good strategy even with nowhere to go – & lord knows you're always looking for somewhere to go. An old woman over-bundled blocks the sidewalk with her bundles. A pretty girl gives you a dark look. The streetlight changes, you begin to move. Now if only you could get there… |
