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exiting the theater.
by Andrew S Adamswalking around uptown at midnight,
it's friday and this is the time that
the ghosts come out to play, at least
that's what we were told;
insignificant shouts, spit words
and drunken conversation down a
one way street, lake and hennepin
mark down, on your notebook
that i bought these things
with myself, sold them with
you and have been living with
a ghost ever since.
whisper. whisper.
always, this constant
obsession with
a chilled landscape
and silence speaking volumes,
it really is quite the lie,
isn't it?
we're walking around uptown
it's thirty two degrees outside,
one day, we will all be the same here,
walking chalk outlines are everywhere,
on a long enough timeline. 12/04/2004 Posted on 12/04/2004
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Cole Miller on 12/08/04 at 12:20 AM man andrew, i have been away from this for far too long. And it is good to read such a touching piece as my first back in the run of things here. I can see this come to life because I too am an uptown kid. Oh. the memories that become poems. and the poems that become memories.
i miss you. |
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