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Poem: Winded

We went down the escalator,
             running, laughing,
      skirts swirling in descent,

and the dividing line between art
     and life seemed ambiguous
                           in the updraft,

            in the roar of buses,
in the carnival cry of seagulls.
           Just like a gust of wind

                          can surprise you,
and hitting the ground, arms wide
   will always leave me breathless.



**************

True to my word, I’ve been bad about writing lately.  So, here a mediocre poem.

I did go slogging around a graveyard recently (why, oh, why do I always forget boots), but that blog entry is just sitting in draft status.  And yes, the drafts are multiplying again.  Maybe I’ll get my act together and finish that entry.  Or maybe I’ll finish my short story about musician vampires.

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