Blustery
It's a windy dayand a newspaper tumbles by.
Not the front page,
some page from the middle of the Living section
with an ad for a lawyer and a health clinic on Main
and a nice looking lady wearing gloves
holding a bundle of carrots.
Cartwheels down the sidewalk,
snagging on a newsstand,
pressing itself to the little window,
and flapping a corner back and forth,
tapping out a lost newsprint Morse code message.
"Have you seen the other pages?
I can't find them."
Another gusts tumbleweeds
it down the street,
wrapping her around a silver crosswalk pole,
because they always have all the answer,
if the question is "Can I walk now?"
Poetry by Rapscallion
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Written on 2009-03-15 at 04:59
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Phyllis J. Rhodes |