TALKING TO SHADOWS

I got the hope of summertime in

my back pocket; a nickel worth of

dreams next to a half-eaten candy bar.

 

Fast cars and leather jackets. Long lines

and chrome from clouds of

mercury shimmer down the street.

 

The waves of Monterey scrawl out on

a wide sandy shore, whispering names

under a crescent moon.

 

Go ahead, talk to shadows. Loan an

dollar to a stranger. Find a bench in a

park and watch the pigeons conquer a

statue.

 

Crossroads never hold me back. It

forces a decision.

 

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