“The more I write, the more the silence seems to be eating away at me.”  — Anne Sexton

Quiet rambles on
a stupor follows me -around
the corner grocer
stands tall -ready
to pack the anger
in a box to store,
a book of sorts.

Those men
standing there,
talking of wrinkles
my car windows rolled down,
i could have hollered -instead
the quiet wind rushing in
cleansing my head of dollars spent.

Stuck at a train crossing to nowhere and I have somewhere to be. Good time to write. 2.8.2017