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Sunday, April 17, 2011


Happy Birthday to my dear friend Linda and my new friend Chris.

Through our walkabouts in life, may we always find the answers to mysteries and love in friendships. May we find the one thing that brings us happiness and let it lead us on the unknown path to our truth. This poem is the description of a man seeking the mysteries in a life we may not all see. The life of a man.

“I took the road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”
Robert Frost

The Walkabout Gentleman

On the train, wet lips whisper seductively,
a muffled whistle is consumed by the wind.

Eyes watch crowds of barren trees standing
in winter woods, waiting for spring it seems.

The pristine hotel, “Good Evening Sir,” neutral
hallways slowly collide, pushing the gentleman

into time and memory. Boots hunger for the crisp
city streets, a red light shines, there is pause;

what does the gentleman take in? What does
he leave alone or contemplate? He is drawn to

a white sheer curtain in a second story window,
blue jazz, fighting, rituals, lovers, and stories.

It is his midnight walkabout luring him and
teaching him the intricacies of his fertile mind.

He turns down West 20th, a diner winks “Open”,
a movie of sorts called the secret life of a man.

It is a sporadic interruption from his daily life;
it is a customary walk of an aborigine’s heroic life.

A horn screams from a yellow taxi cab, a manhole
spits steam, a tall woman is wandering, he is on foot

alone. It is the walkabout he chooses to fade into,
the gripping songline of his need for experience.

Why do any of us go for a walkabout through an
unknown wilderness like it is our inner most home?

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