Took this walking down good ol' Centre Street in Jamaica Plain. Most peaceful commute in ages. This poem came to me quickly, but since I've been working on ridiculous articles, this took longer than I thought. For me, trying to work on poetry and prose at the time is like trying to step off a bike while it's still rolling downhill. Still, I'm happy how this turned out for the moment.
Lost Epilogue
Retrace
way back,
when sun
and lamps both
punch clock.
There it is,
perfect day
never known
while you
just fought,
stuck fists
in sand,
stood ground
to remain.
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