the shadow split from his head
and unveiled fear and anxiety
on the corner of 57th street.
he didn't need this shit now
but, yet, he was still a firecracker
w/ mixed emotions & chemicals
"okay, i don't need this shit, man,"
he kept repeating it to himself
until he felt lighter and lighter
and really started to believe it
- break through -
white roses in the 7 inches of snow
and all this freezing rain
-the best of the white roses-
pure energy, stardust, freedom w/out debt =
he recalled the pilgrimages across harsh land
and all the while the pilgrims chanting & chanting,
"Dalai Lama, Dalai Lama, Dalai Lama, Dalai Lama"
888888888888
he was in his office typing a letter
he pulled on the hairs beneath his soft full lips,
twirled them until he felt & smelled the shampoo -
his eyes became fixated on the keys & wide screen
he was onto something
he felt better
ageless
he wasn't tired
or worried any more
grateful & thankful for everyday
every nite
every morning
the best of the white roses
black space
&
pure energy
&
light
2:07 a.m.
february 14
john french
mystrawhat.com
'07
