999 Z13

battle paint
bathed in orange and yellow
streaked across faces
everyone came back -
to stand away from the cold

stomach turned
felt the leaves coming - down
but our faces
were painted in light
we were too busy chasing
crowds

was that the life we sought

–
sometimes
I don’t want to write anymore
sometimes
I want to hide away in
peaceful hours

once I reach one thousand
I’m closing the book
changing my face
forgetting if anyone ever
thanked me

sometimes
I’m tired of horns
piano solos
crooning singers

maybe I wrote some good ones
maybe they aren’t so yellow
like I think they are

–