in keeping with this gray sky I walked <br />to the post office with a broken step and <br />tossed my letters on the counter and tried <br />to exit just as quickly as I had come in <br /> <br />'there's too much snow in Denver' I heard <br />the man behind the old wood desk say while <br />glancing at my letter's destinations, 'they <br />won't get there until at least three weeks from <br /> <br />this very day' and that's how it goes, I guess <br />snow everywhere, snow in Anchorage, snow in <br />Boston, but never any snow here to pale up <br />this gray that's etched itself so deep into this sky <br /> <br />what is it my father used to say, 'chin up boy <br />keep that stiff upper lip, can't let the world get <br />to you', so I look down, count my heel steps <br />and kick gravel along the sidewalk back to home <br /> <br />maybe never go back, maybe just keep walking <br />towards somewhere where the sky looks a bit less <br />like the dust that's fallen on your picture frame <br />like the emptiness that invented its own color<br /><br />Ben Paynter<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/three-weeks-from-now-you/
