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Haiku Free Verse Prosies
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In the middle of it all,
of all the hustle and the sweating,
of the lunchtime sales pitches,
of the resume handing
and the piling bills
in the middle of the
homeless cardboard signs and outstretched hands
and the knowledge that you are
one sharp edge of the knife
away from their ranks,
you run past bloated crowds of tourists
on their way home
from fat airplanes
on an unseasonably warm afternoon
between your birthday and the New Year
to an empty platform on the Red Line
where there is music
and a man singing in Spanish
and the rising interest of the crowd
sprouts up from the brightly lit corridor,
reminding you
in a moment of sweet grief
for your lost amante
of what first drew you to this city
and why you stay
— Frances Donovan
December 2003
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