the yellow moon is hanging over roof tops
as i pedal silently through the quiet streets

the stench of recently deceased chickens,
sur la masse
wafts across the parks and down alley ways

infiltrating the cool scent of pavement
unwelcome, like a forgotten
lover ringing the bell for service

i realize now that i have been
chasing what i already have

a place to call my own
and not feel that i shall be leaving
all to soon,
for good things can happen
to fools such as I.

falling in love all too often.