the runaway

the end of day shuts down the smell of rain at 5 o'clock with gusty winds and withered leaves under my feet newspapers whirling from empty parking lots broken plastic bins rolling a lonely dog in an alley I wake up in my rented room with dingy wallpaper coffee is what I need I toss my blanket and lay there thinking of a thousand awful images then sitting on the bed I whisper to myself I should go home