A Great Discontent

Missing my first train

caught the 8:45 into work

I had cellmates on play

when I passed by old town salt lake

but what I saw instead within the window frames

my Portland streets a shinin’ rain.

three out of every seven days...

I glimpse flash book the only home

to which I’ve ever claimed ‘my own’

three out of every seven days…

an unsettling discontent-coffee shops, and café racers

Pendleton, and ash denim jackets.

I’d probably no more than a few bucks to my name,

and I was loveless and I was symmetrical

to the clouds in that Pacific Northwest sky.

(predictably somber)

three out of every seven days

A Great Discontent -I miss those days.