Mar 282015
 

I woke up in the middle of a city
not knowing where I came from
not knowing my destination

Everyone was a stranger on the street
This scene has been played out many times
The end game varies so much, though

Many people never find their way
back to their center, where the soul resides
while others, thankfully, do

I have been there on that street
in Springfield, Mass…Strange
how I miss Springfield

and Western Mass.
Yes, I reached out people
but, somehow,

every time things fell apart
(probably my fault) and I found myself
alone again, and finally homeless

I could blame it on Bipolar
and it would not be wrong

but if I had sought help earlier
with all of my strength, the end of the story
would not consist of the image

of gang graffiti on a fence
imprinted on my memory
as I pulled out of town

on the last Greyhound leaving for the South

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