Winter 1978


hello, sweet friend

it’s me, the maniac, alone again…

it’s desperation luring me up your driveway

it’s cold nights staring at the dog

      biting fleas that are biting him

it’s winter’s mean temperament

      rubbing me the wrong way

it’s people made of endless yards of fashionable yarn

      ignoring me as they seek warmth from the wind

it’s twenty phony Santas downtown

      each with a hand in my pocket

      knowing i’m a sucker with a pocketful of change

it’s having no car

not knowing the bus schedules

not having cab fare

not having courage enough to bike around town

not within walking distance of anyplace i’d like to be

      or anyone i’d care to see

 

it’s a damned shame, being crippled by my own apathy

and now, as i try to run to you,  i fall flat on my lazy ass

because too much time has passed

 

but i thank you

    for not laughing

        at the fallen heroine

i only wish you had told me before i left you

that nobody else thought i was a star

i wish you had told me

how lonely life is at the bottom

copyright 2009 rhonda lee richoux

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