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A minute passed when you asked

?Where are you from??

I nodded to the East and said

?Out that way.?

Not vague enough,

Eyes widened, lip curled,

?You mean just before the fence,

But still this side of the gate??

?No, other side,?

Came my reply,

?Where our houses are smaller

Than your cars.

Where we buy fun by the ounce

And love by the hour

And there isn?t an inch of iron untouched by Rust

Belt standards of slow decay.?

?So how did you get out?? You asked,

Leaning forward, hands pressed.

?I never got out,

I?m just taking a break.

Tell myself I?m content to keep walking,

That every square foot to grace my heels

Is the top of the world,

And I?m spitting over the railing.?

?No,? You interrupted.

?I meant, how did you get out?

I thought we kept the gate locked.?

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Jesus, I love that poem! Beautifully done, beautiful topic and not a bit schmaltzy, just really great. Damn, you're more facile with words than I am...I think I'll go cry. <G>



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