Sitting--

amidst the angry

invective

of soap box preachers--

burnt out

by the fire and brimstone

carried by

a hot September breeze.

 

I

am only a freshman...

Fleeing

Boston University

for the nameless riot

wondering if the man next to me

with the broken posture

and the shopworn suit--

dreams that hit the crapper

decades ago..

will this be me?

 

My carefully prepared face

washed away

with the press

of all the strange,

sweaty flesh.

The familial wisdom

passed on to me 

like some precious heirloom--

useless, ludicrious

in this new light.

And my questions

float unanswered--

the city's febrile pulse unabated--

I wilt in

leafy shadows.