Saturday, December 12, 2015

mmcdxciv

Poem

There’s a hero in our midst.
‘Myth, maybe,’ says he of no
lisp as the fogroll turns into
drumroll.  The 4th of 4 days
in a row I walk down this hill.

It is where I’ve lived (or used
to live) for 10, no, 11 years. 
So more of the same will (might)
happen soon.  The 5th of 5 days
in a row, etc.  At a gym, I go on

record as weighing myself.  I
come out several pounds.  A
lot of them.  And later wonder
how to convert them into
stones.  Or sentences.  The

Mark Hopkins Intercont-
inental Hotel is a stone’s
throw away from my
apartment building.
So I throw it into a

lot of sentences.   On
several occasions.  For
example, this is the
evening that I throw
myself at everyone

walking the sidewalk
that passes directly in
front of the building
in which I live. I could
convert into condom-

iniums, if you’d like.
Really, it was nothing.
For example, 'Thank
you!'   And you do
the same.