EVERY WAKING DAY

Today's poem arose out of a couple of lines in a Mountain Goats song:

Like someone who's found a small town to escape to
Keeps one eye on his abandoned, former self.

The song is Spent Gladiator 2.
I was thinking what it must be like to be that person. I immediately thought witness protection and it grew from that.

he walks around his car

eyes search for small changes

find none

he drives the dawn streets

to black coffee in a white mug

comforting warmth in chilled hands

this is the only habit he salvaged

from the car crash of his first life

when faced with that choice

he traded loyalty for freedom

and ponders the decision

every waking day and into each night

This is a work in progress. I was imagining you would have to change your habits completely to reduce the possibility of detection. I wondered if you would either be haunted by the deal you had to make or never think of it.
It seems appropriate to leave you with The Mountain Goats.

Until next time.