"down in Denver I died"

this time last year, there were thunderheads to the west and omens in the shapes of the crows on the power lines. i saw a cross, left arm broken, as i sat stopped at the corner of 10th and Congress.

my muse was in Denver, and i mused of the time i spent living on Sherman in 2000. i did my best to channel Jack's doldrums but somehow never made it past Colfax. so i brushed up on my Spanish, and bought giant medical references for $2 in used bookstores on Broadway. even now i think of those as the salad days, but -

in the end?

it all reads like Bill.