Series of Deaths

the day he finally
got out of jail...
after months, and years,

he stepped out on the street,
and fought back the urge
to run.... to run, and run

to where nobody
knew his name, or
his face... to where he

couldnt even smell
the time he'd lost...

and he walked slowly,
and with dignity, never
looking back, to the car...

a series of deaths...
and a match lit
in a distant window...

a small gust of wind
that no one else can know!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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