Thursday, February 17, 2011
A little poem for this Thursday -- thanks for reading!
It seemed inevitable that I’d end up in a place
like this. Detroit, Michigan, 1999, a few years
away from thirty. The snow already gray, already
tired. The sign on the Tool and Dye shop next
door says, Forty Days Until Spring. A countdown.
My friend gets us two drinks at the bar where its happy
hour for another twenty minutes, although you’d never
know it from the grim-faced regulars. If you haven’t
guessed, it’s not the kind of place where they ask
what kind of vodka you want. Like everything else
in this city, you take what you’re given and then some.