Saturday 16 December 2017


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.

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