through back alleys,
across shore lines,
over mountain valleys,
up the tree,
down the creek,
in front of the people,
behind them as well,
but, mostly, generally,
on a journey my imagination can only produce.
goes leaping across the page.
no style, no form, just pure literary fun.
mothers are dancing back and forth with toddlers on the hip.
an old man reads his daily newspaper, and can’t believe the news with a shake of the hand and the murmur of descent.
a homeless man is dozing, a book turned open as just a ruse,
another man is reading. he looks like he rather be boozin’.
people searching for movies to escape the heat.
librarians beaming to see their place so full.
this little writer is trying to get busy and is using this poem to jump-start the feeling,
so I can get back to my book that I have been writing.
a glance at my schedule for fall, oh boy where has gone the time,
only one professor has posted the books needed, and he needs us to buy nine books!
Nine! watch,the others will require the same.
oh its to be expected, as an English major.
and to think that this time next year, I’ll be a college graduate.
Oh wonderful impulse where will you take me next?