Duffle Bag at Midnight
Walking midnight streets with a duffle bag
Walk fast, look ahead, act like you have somewhere to go.
Yeah . . . that way . . . they’re expecting me any time now.
I should’ve been there already, you know.
There’s nothing I want to think about, just things to chase away
And I can stop thinking, if I sing, silently, to myself--
But don’t let your lips move, or you’ll look like you’re talking to yourself,
And they’ll think you’re crazy, needin’ serious help.
This duffle bag? No, no, this is just my work-out stuff.
Yeah, I’m on my way back from the YMCA.
Three hours ago? Closed? Yeah, well, I stopped to talk to some friends.
I needed the break, after work today.
Well of course it doesn’t smell so good;
It’s my work-out clothes, I told you.
Yes, really, I like to exercise in those old jeans.
There a law about wearing a warm-up suit?
I told you, I’m on my way home.
Of course I have somewhere to go.
Right up this street, and take a left . . . first light.
Starter gave out on my car, or I’d not have to walk, you know.
The address? Yeah . . . well, I’m staying with a buddy of mine.
Um . . . on Walnut Street. (Every town has a Walnut street, right?)
I don’t know the address, but it’s legit, officer--I’ve got someplace to go.
Just right now, I’m walking with a duffle bag, at midnight.
Return to the Writings Menu.
Return to the Front Door.
E-mail me at Weavre_@hotmail.com.