Saturday, March 7, 2009

London, almost

Chicago felt like London this morning
just before the rain:
the damp, the slight fog
the gray blending into pavement
and the chill felt deep, but bearable
like London winter
beautiful in its ugliness
poetry for the heartbroken
for the wanderer
alone but surrounded

and though I love sunshine,
Chicago’s London fog
was so beautiful
every step took meaning
like walks in Chelsea to the tube
I feel my feet hit the pavement
moving, moving

so I keep going
even if the chill hits my bones
even when my insides burst with gray
even through an almost-London damp morning

the gray is only gloomy
if you make it that way.

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