Thursday, December 21, 2017

checkpoint in the rain

The sunrise is different when you are on a mission;
the clouds seem to give way for enough beauty 
to offer other than rain and darkness, a possibilty
silver and gold lined, for the eyes 

yet as you walk or sit 
you know it is bound to happen
long lines of cars listless 
like a leftover loaf

inside, screaming children who want to run 
women restlessly switching between radio stations 
men nodding behind the windshield 
and you, between the bus chair and the novel in your lap 

there is something about forced waiting
like there is about rain, it pains the head harder 
a tinted shade of purple 
nothing happens, no one moves and yet

time is happening; 
life swinging and swishing like raindrops 
whizzing between the points of destiny
A to B, B to A, where there should never be a space 

to be forced to stop 
behind a checkpoint in the rain.

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