The End of the Tunnel

Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.

Doug Larson

Listen!  Hear that?  The collective sigh of relief from the street as the mercury  tops 0° and keeps soaring to a balmy 10°!  Inner city sunshine blasting from the sky, thawing out frozen digits and dreams.  Hearts soaring, giddy from the rush of illicit vitamin D, “Stringer” and I dust off patio chairs, drag them out to the pavement and crank the iPods up as high they’ll go.  We’re playing different tunes but were moving and pounding out the beat in synch.  “Dix” boogies over and the boys from stabilization spill into the street.

It’s gonna be noisy out there on this Friday night.

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About Drakakis

Street Poet scribbling to your tired, your poor, your huddled masses; the wretched refuse of your teeming shore, the homeless, tempest-tost ...
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