flashpoint

there's nothing black and

white in this life

if not hues of rainbows

there are infinite grays

and shades of past

and future lives

complicated questions

irritating subtexts

and massive attacks

like losing everything again

standing in the rain

with your old yellow backpack

and a paper sack with an

empty cigarette pack inside

a signpost to boston

and not one car on the road

and yet you go on

and on and on and on

in the great undertow

with patterns of light

that your feet just seem

to follow as if

driven or guided

or whatever finds you

safe and alive