Folded Thought of the Day:


The criminals are arriving tonight.  In from the cold.  Casting a 
wary glance at all the paying customers.  The night train fallout.  
The elements of our civilization.  With time done and hearts heavy 
and bones in varying degrees of decay.  Last stop anomalies are 
running rampant on the platform.  Problematic happenstance.  
Searching the faces for the loved ones they know won't he there.  
Clutching faded letters from sweethearts long gone astray.

Not looking for any particular trouble.  Knowing that it has a 
way of making its way their way.  Sooner or later.  Each with 
their own set of demons waiting in every dark corner of every 
smoky bar in town.  Partners in crime -- with scars reminding 
them of exactly who it was that actually took the fall.  

Your basic set of circumstantial evidence.  Scanning memories 
for a safe place to lay low and get their bearings.  Who among 
them will pause mid-thought to take notice?  Is it that evident?  
Wearing their sentence like birthmark.  Mothers jerking the 
arms of children with your approach.  Everyone afraid to follow 
in your footsteps.

And is there anybody who really thinks the agents of fortune 
aren't hanging about.  Waiting for the crack in this urban 
facade.  Let's face it, this kind of weather has a way of rousing 
extreme behavior.  Especially when there's no longer any place 
to call home.  

Be careful how you flaunt those bills.  More than a few people 
are taking an interest.  

And they're running through roll call at the Salvation Army.  
Inconsequential mysteries and sullen tapestries at every turn.  
Forgone conclusions.  Waiting for another round of the usual. 
Who can say how many have been stricken by that set of trapped 
dichotomies they keep in the cellar.  

Sign up for another tour of duty.  Grab a cot and lay your 
tired body down.  Serenade yourself with a chorus of disapproval.  
Close your eyes and find some way to tomorrow. 


- - - - - - - - - -