#497. tis the season

December 7, 2011

ran some errands today
endured the noise 
christmas crowds push
they seemed tired
this odd warm angry year
does not matter
walking through the door
when you smile up
at me and the dog runs up
for her belly rubs

in the soft
cold evening of ghostly
new york
all the citizens and characters
bump and tumble
into each other
down subways and out
store doors
feeling their
joyous anxious way
they slip into the holy
anonymity of treasures
and pain that they find at home
or on the streets.
in the morning the ghosts are gone again.

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