I was outside, partially sheltered,
people looking into televisions.
I couldn't understand much of the story,
but most of them were crying.

I weaved in and out with signal failure
and this attracted the attention of Zido
and the gap was the first sheet
of paper in his stack.

When he failed to answer, people folded in half
and continued to laugh, and stapled together.
There are two worlds within Zido's gap
and something has to happen, and I stepped away.

Held on long enough to find some kind of addict,
expelled my waste product, and found one of those looks.
It has something to do with the strangers,
and how they stand so very still for a time.

Zido caught my eye, somewhere inside my head.
He sounded mournful, doing his usual city thing.
Just like that I remembered the gap
and stepped absent mindedly onto the train.

07/29/2011

Author's Note: This is what happens when I attempt to turn a short story of mine into a poem.

Posted on 07/29/2011
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