"Moving (Lamppost)"

Under Uniondale lamppost,

adolescent delinquents puff

loose cigarettes and debate the bra sizes

of bangable teachers at Uniondale high.

I drag my bags toward the back of a '98 Ford Windstar

"What did I tell you about dragging those laundry bags!"

(more a command than a question)

I mouth the reprimand

(a record that echoed in my head

15 seconds before they left her lips)

and throw my winter wardrobe onto collapsed rear seats.

"What time is it?"

"Forty-five past midnight", the perfect time

to put into effect the change

of address forms she filled out last week.

Trapped in an uncharacteristic

black South Pole trap jacket,

(the one

with the fur trimmed hood), and watch

the smoke rise from under the lamppost on Jerusalem Ave.

No one would know

where I lived for the next three months

and I could not find myself either.

But unlike them I was not looking.

"Moving (Lamppost)"

Written by Christopher J. Greggs

on 3/1/2011 at 1:52pm