shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Linda Conroy

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Deep in Winter

The last hours of the old year fade
as the late train to Vancouver rumbles
through this comfortable neighborhood.
In suburbs spirits rise, tongues trip
as cheer becomes the norm, but beneath
a billboard beckoning downtown
young ones less fortunate, hunker, hide.
And further down the road a monitor
records the heartbeat of the weary man
in room fifteen, each beep a ration
of his stake. His restless hands
clutch blankets close. He doesn't know
what measure life might bring, needs
neither dark not triumph from this night.