Lonely are the streets

I just too walk the streets alone at night,                                                                                                                                                                        

                                                 now the streets are lonely without me walking thru’ them                                                                                like clockwork an orange fade of dawn I used to see,                                                   now orange is more a sinister red like the color of my weary eyes.

                  In the morning fog I hid from evil, but sometimes evil was the fog;

I remember the time my friend George and I drove six blocks in circles and every time we came to the same corner store, we said we were closer to the party, until we realize it was the same corner store we’ve crossed for the sixth time, damn fog!

…those were the good ol’ days- I do not miss those days;                                         these were the golden years, if we didn’t get killed in the process of elimination,

but I do miss many friends even foes; I kept them closed until their wedding or death done us apart!

                                                     The joy of my friendship with them has always been the respect towards my affiliation with poetry,

and how they never frown upon it as being a silly thing to do!

Some even introduced me at times as Sergio the poet…I do miss that!

So now I drive lonely through the streets of Fresno, looking, but don’t know what I’m looking for-

it’s not the violence I encountered before, maybe the rush of feeling invincible when the bullets flew by—I will end this poem now, it’s becoming a nuisance of my past…

Author's Notes/Comments: 

memories that will never die!

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nightlight1220's picture

This has a really nice

This has a really nice relaxing tone to it...then you cut it off quickly to keep it that way...nice. i liked it alot.

...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "


braddurant21's picture

them good old days started

them good old days started when we had good ol days to miss

SoulKritiC's picture

I agree..