By jill (keylime@onebox.com)
Date: 12 March 2001

walk of shame, bath beach 7a.m.

my head hung low
in stark contrast to the what the sun is hitting:
streets flooded so bright, even the black asphalt gives off a glare.
so i have to quickly shake last night off
to see what is really going on.
it's only saturday morning
you've done this before
(but never to this tune)

so the old men are tending to their tomatoes,
and the kids are cross-legged and neck-craned 
watching morning cartoons.
and like those days, love left me a long time ago,
but i know it will be back soon.

i am walking in the middle of the kind of domesticity that
gets in you, and settles rather than scares.
i would like to think i could give up these walks of shame
for a starter home and the corner deli.

i will water my grass,
and forget that the train rumbles overhead.
there will be a gaudy plaster icon in the yard to greet you
and the local kids can run rampant and trample my flowers.

but it's all love by then
so you just plant again.