A cold March morning

March 28, 2012
Hand’s shoved deep in my pockets for warmth,
Eyes darting around like green tennis balls,
I am always waiting for something,
never knowing exactly who or what it is,
A cigarette is burning in between my finger tips,
I think they are turning blue,
F*** Vermont weather.
I shiver,
Still looking,
Still wandering,
Still waiting,
for something.

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