Lassitude
Avoiding the girl-scouts
with their cookies.
I hasten out of the store.
I am too soft now to wait
for a bus
in the dead of winter.
It's a fragility, it is a lassitude,
it’s a small uncertain privilege.
Shoes laced together,
hang from power lines.
I drive by,
car windows locked.
Walking with a full shopping bag
in the dark and cold
- an old woman.
I would probably frighten her
if I offered a lift.
I drive on by.
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