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  >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Experience >> ID #465017  |   Show DetailsPrinter Friendly Page Tell A Friend
Boston Poem
November. LaPorte, Indiana. Twenty degrees and windy
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Avg Rating: (39)
Boston Poem

I am strung
between two points.

I am hammered into dust
beneath the gravel
of an Indiana highway.

I am colder now
than the ends
of this road
twisted
into twin spires
of ice.

I am singing
vulgar songs,
strumming
with numb fingers
this sign
around my neck
I have painted yellow
and lettered to read

BOSTON
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