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the republic of honduras (#77, conguacota)
patterns where i least expect them.
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the republic of honduras (#62, san marcos)
language forms a barrier
that shadow puppets can overcome
with just the right sunlight.
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the republic of honduras (#112, llano del horcon)
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| middle grounds
i am nourished
and that is to say
the johny cash thru the house speakers
reminds me that this could only be 2007
and the convergence of man (walking)
and woman (running)
just outside the window to my immediate right
says just about the same.
it may just be the coffee but college seems so college,
or at least this college does.
send in the bagpipes, the beer bongs,
and the very expensive jeans.
***
only in a town that is a college (that is a town)
would a coffee shop open at 10 a.m.
but we all know saturday mornings are valued for their
proficiency with sleep
and who am i to argue(?)
for i have this sanctuary,
this mall of academia,
all to myself.
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| there's something like rain falling
only it's not.
a gentleman -- i'm giving him the benefit of the doubt --
sits impatiently in his oh seven BMW
waiting for the city worker in his eighty seven ford truck
to plow a path, a way of least resistance to the city streets
which now hide under the ashes of cold.
thus the town grid is gray
and, truthfully, hardly a grid.
it's as if mother sat down to draw
and her pre-school age offspring finished.
right angles at the center give way to the knots
of windy roads further from this town square.
none of that matters now.
i am here dodging the drafts these century old brick walls surrender
with a protest of wool
and a nod to the wisdom of not being
too comfortable at home.
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