Trying to get out
Trying to Get Out
the best way
out of town
my feet on the dusty road
toes pointing north
to the land of light
cold emptiness calls
as I leave the past behind
mud smeared prophet
little ones on the street
loving her experience
the lovely lady
making home in the hills
no road signs to read
no levers to pull
cells twitching
begging for a hit
for the solstice of longing
spent shells bouncing on the pavement
no comfort for your logic
only self-determination
you swim in the magical ferment
and find an end in Paris
a completion that evades
at least until now
© Deep Piercing Cut
poem by Glen Lantz
Added by Poetry Lover
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