The White Line
A paved path for pedestrians and cyclists
winds by my Shitville retreat
A white line used to divide that path,
to keep walkers & bikers apart
I've had this place,
which used to be my apartment,
for thirty-eight years, but now it's mostly my retreat
And I remember that line
I bike or walk up & down that path
every day when I'm down here,
and make darn sure to choose the appropriate side,
even though the line is - since long - worn away
Maybe it is possible to sort of sense almost invisible parts of
the line in certain places, but that's all
I always stay on the proper side of the white line, however!
It's just a memory of a line that decides my behavior,
but it keeps me stubbornly on the right side!
People who have moved here, say, in the last fifteen years,
have no idea about a white line
They walk or bike wherever they want, and wouldn't you know;
even change sides while moving!
I get really irritated about that!
Is that fucked up or not!?
I let a ghost line decide my movements,
and feel angered when others don't!
Fucked up!
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
Read 160 times
Written on 2024-05-13 at 18:42
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
alarian |
Lawrence Beck |