I’m Not in Missouri Anymore
I stepped off the bus just before midnight. The thermometer read 38 degrees, but I had never felt colder. Loneliness has a way of draining the warmth from your heart. The 400-year-old stone buildings were gray and naked as they bleached through the fog covered courtyard. Like ancient tombs guarded by skeleton trees. A window slid open on the third floor of the building across the street from me. “Hey ‘cruit, welcome to hell,” they yelled. But I couldn’t laugh. I was too busy holding back the tears that were boiling up inside me.
I was but a child
at the crossroads of my life;
looking for a sign
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