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This writing was accepted for publication in the 84 page perfect-bound issue... Down in the Dirt magazine (v101) (the December 2011 Issue) You can also order this 5.5" x 8.5" issue as an ISSN# paperback book:						This writing also appears in this 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback “Perfectly Imperfect” Order this 6" x 9" ISBN# book:

Order this writing in the book Bleeding Heart Cadaver (a Down in the Dirt collection book)		get the 320 page September-December 2011 Down in the Dirt magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Cold Front Breeze

Robert D. Lyons

It’s getting harshly cold
As the relentless wind blows me away.
I’m freezing to death
In the paper thin, purple v-neck
I stole from the local thrift store.
I have nowhere to go.
A phone full of contacts with no one to call.
It’s getting colder, Thomas.
Where are you?
I’m completely alone in a crowded town.
I know everyone and no one will talk to me.
Please come get me, Thomas.
I have been waiting through muck
In this murky cold front breeze.
Lost with nowhere to go.
I have walked from the coffee shop at the corner.
You know, the one where Anne sits and sucks down
Those Camel royals.
Where she talks about Spain
And love.
I follow the trail
Of my old cigarette butts from months past.
The trail of tar.
Scared of where it will take me.
I followed it to my old dense two room apartment
Where I would dream of her
And watch soccer games in the patchy field.
I followed it to my ancient High School,
Whose bright polished halls I roamed like a ghost.
My prison.
The place was my prison.
I venture out,
But the wind keeps blowing my hair
In my eyes
And I can’t see anything.

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