New Year’s Day

It’s quiet out

The snow drifts downwards

Upon the cold pavement

On which I lay upon

Waiting

For the eighteen wheelers

To come by

It’s New Year’s Day

Come re-invent yourself

And play hopscotch upon my chest

It’s New Year’s Day

Feel the new as it gets older

And feel sorry about last year

It’s New Year’s Day

Kill the bad ones

And create new luxurious habits

It’s New Year’s Day

The eighteen wheelers have not come by

I lay

Still

Waiting

For the next celebration

To be forgotten and forbidden

© 1999 David Greg Harth

99.01.01.01:01:01 @ 296NYC

New Year’s Day