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The Long Walk
By
Bryan Stillman
First the bank, in an effort to stay free
Of punitive charges, late fees, and the
Disapproval of those who sit behind desks
Yet no longer see us face to face.
On to my coffee
Where the roast is fresh and my desire true.
Although my request is native
The morning girls snicker below the steam
And disguise intent with language
All well before the brew goes down.
Groceries are easier for
The clerk we have no conflict
Although I wonder about funds available
And how she'll see me
If I have to give back an item
Or two.
The garage sales are plentiful
On a sunny Saturday afternoon.
Cash and smiles exchanged easily
For second, third, and fourth hand items
Though names and loves withheld
For this is shiny happy business.
We say good morning
The child, the old man, and me
And we go on with our nothingness
Our daily temporary concerns
And trust is not considered, nor in doubt
But is it there?
Litter is easier to find than trust.
I want nothing except
Those around me, those I pass
To share acknowledgement of our plight
Our mutual travel plans
To where we came from
Which is the same
regardless of whether it's
Here or there.
Copyright © 2006 Bryan Stillman
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