south bound

[enuh]

they tread
on streets fragile
as glass, enveloped
in fog,
unseeing eyes
reliant on movement:
a hundred other bodies
dimly aware,
if at all,
of each other,
of fragility,
of the days
and the ways
they succumb:
like prickly needles
it is painful at first,
then deadening.

there is no salve
for these wounds
dreams eventually fade
as they do

there are no regrets,
just a gradual
surrender
to the darkening hours

(written at bo's, 5:36 pm, 9 october 2007)