sunday morning freaks

the sky s gray , the pavements and the road are white with stains,
of the residue of ice melting salt. white all along the euclid,
white stains. construction work on the right side from downtown to the
school. is makinalari standing all in silence, early sunday morning, 8 am.
the noise of the highway coming down, rest is making no sound. i see birds flying
together, no sound again. later on a homeless man groans from the far corner of the
street. just a moment ago a car had pulled over near me, thought he was
checking for a building number or so, he pulled over again as i walked away,
he stared with eyes seeking nothing as his mind perhaps did. didnt look at me
straight. as i continued worried only a bit, he drove away.

i felt my toes aching as i entered my building. i thought of newspapers...
i thought of what i thought a while ago, when the street was
deserted from where i started to where i ended near cafe ah roma.
i thought that it s hard to tell if you are out in the world or
just roaming within your mind, when there is no one outside.. (when there are no faces)
buses passed, saw a few vans, one carrying newspapers - plain dealer- , one getting back
to the comfort inn at the corner.. probably with customers picked up
from the airport.

i thought of a graveyard. i saw an ice cold jesus on my way. i saw the little
colored flags vibrating in the wind. i didnt see no one. i thought of (nothing at)
all*. cold. bitter cold biting my toes.

warm enough only to write these.., i wrote this.