Meandering

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Meandering

I don’t mind if I don’t make this light

In fact, I want to linger here

On this street corner

I’d prefer a bench, but those are occupied by the societies fringe, and lined with empty cans of fortified malt liquor, cigarette butts, and the types of refuse that’s generated when one lives on the edge

No, I’ll wait here on this street corner for my turn to go

Sun hitting my face and breeze caressing my hair

It’s one of the few times it’s okay to be still

There’s a sanctioned purpose for this idle

To me, it’s a weary reprieve

A relief

(Originally written May 25th, 2017 at 12:25 pm)

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