Glancing across the platform
I spotted myself sitting on a bench thirty years ago
waiting for a downtown train,
fleeing some boy because because I realized I wasn’t who he thought I was,
or maybe I was,
but he was no longer interested.
Present me wanted to shout, “Get on with things. Stop fucking around.
You need a PLAN.”
But if I could’ve heard, I wouldn’t have listened.
I was too busy gathering material.

2 Comments on Non-Political Prose Poem

  1. Penguin says:


    It’s a shame you don’t have a donate button! I’d without a doubt donate to this fantastic blog! I suppose for now i’ll settle for bookmarking and adding your RSS feed to my Google account. I look forward to new updates and will share this blog with my …

    • Marion says:

      Thanks. The best way to “donate” would be to check out my books, and if inclined buy one. Then if you like it to review it on Amazon, tweet about it etc. etc.

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