Running Fast

running too fast nothing new
from a parking lot morning
of immaculate conception
across the street of dirty brown snow
march melted morning
slush

slip slide down
I go as the bus
screech slides stop

looking up my blue child eyes see some
of the underside for the first time

I fell lucky even at six and
you know, the snow is still
dirty brown down here

Copyright © 1986-2001 Thom Reid