nothing much to do
when I was 15
I put a rock through
the window of some
house just to hear
the sound of glass
shattering. the quiet
afterward was like
poking holes in the
clouds. then I ran
like hell for a while.
then I sat on a green
bench and stared
at the passing cars
which was better than
smashing windows
I guess.
lost my heart over there
ragged streets
under a white sky
if happiness was
something you could
buy from the ice cream
truck when it comes
jingling down the street
or balloons
red yellow and green
rising up into blue sky
under the lying sun…
back when days like
that mattered.
when you’re a kid
there’s no end to what
they can do to you
and they’ll do it to you
till you end up in
some alley
among the stray cats
hoping more for angels
than Gods, hoping
to catch a glimpse of
silken wings.
Ross Vassilev
