the life acrostic (alles gute zum geburtsag, buddy)

Fiction, 2/7/10

Lost in thought
on a midday’s jaunt,
gaining speed, hauling ass
after a morning wrought
nose in book, pen in hand, at his favorite haunt: that Harry Potter room

Drawing near to a fork,
a “Why?” in the road,
needing to choose a path
in a minute or so,
even though he knew the right in toto,
“Left!” he cried, “The right way to go!”

Aching and cramped
yet pedaling still,
the lad kept trucking,
espied his house on the hill—
saw the light in the window, the cat on the sill

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