Man in the Darkness

A Projection On Paper Poem Prolongation (I had to try too hard for that alliteration…)

Down in the dark in cold concrete cave past evergreen trees.
He lays on his side, waiting to die, and lets out a cough.
I walked by the man and felt a chill.
Perfectly still.
Deathly ill.
It was as if I was him in that moment that gave me the fright.
I walked away slowly, back into the light.
Back up to the campus.
And back to my room.
I stayed there an hour.
Then had to move.
I stepped outside.
Still saw his face.
I knew he was there.
Left for dead.
Without a trace.
I wanted to go back.
But something kept me away.
I stayed on the bench.
And let my thoughts drift away.
Next week I had a test.
I couldn’t afford to stand out.
I should let him lay there.
No one knows him besides.
I had to avoid being discovered.
They could not know I had went undercover.
The college’s rules were strict.
Death was the master.
I still thought of that man.
This school is a disaster.

 

Author’s Note: An extension on Man in the Darkness. I’m still not too impressed by it, but I wanted to extend it.

Nicollet and 11th

I hate you.

In the summer, you are pleasant and peaceful,
but every windy winter day, you transform into a snowy, biological torture test.
You are the reason I have to wear two layers.
In fact, before I reach you, my coat is usually flopped over my left arm, and I probably said something about how wonderful the weather was.
The second I step onto your pavement, I shudder at the sudden chill and am forced to scramble to equip myself properly. I take my hat from my left pocket, fold the brim and pull it over my head. I take my gloves and put them on as my fingers start to turn white. And then I walk. Your unrelenting wind forces me to keep my head down, and I thank the world that I have glasses to keep sharp, stray snowflakes from colliding with my eyes at a wind speed of over fifteen miles per hour. And as I reach the end of the street and cross over to La Salle and S 11 St, your wind drops away and I have warmth once more. And then, it occurs to me, that the reason I am warm now, the drop of skyline over the respite of St. Thomas Universality, is the same reason that I was cold walking here. And I question why I always walk down your hellish route of a wind tunnel. There are so many other streets, all of which more pleasant by which I could reach Hennepin. And yet I keep coming back to you.