hurrying here, hurrying there

once again sleep alludes me

these same streets

like an old don juan quixote

turning in circles

recognizing the pain

the old tom

trying to decide

what manner of bird is this

first anniversary

another day

starbucks cafe

trolling for poetry

all the colors of spring

shading the sun from my eyes

her tight jeans

escaping

as if we were old friends

my shirt sticks to me

surrounded by laughter

this strange mood that i'm in

long shadows of sunset

in the wren's shadow

even with my eyes closed

so far from home and yet . . .

mid-day heat

memorial day parade --

a soft spring breeze