Travels

The side streets are slick and worn
as I walk daily to the college
working on frustrations as old as time
in holey shoes and slighted ambition

My twisted ankle, my mucked up transmission
tiny travesties leading to submission
of mind, of thought, of body rot
in flooded back alleys and musty university towns

I walk past solemn green and dirty brick
a facade thrown across the earth
darkened windows hide secrets
in the midst of wind-bent trees

The fragile ecosystem of roadwork and wax
shelters my way through the days
past Sycamores and White Oaks
unlit houses and the cries of feral cats

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