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A weekly video reading of poetry by the poet.

Leaning
by James P. Friel

Leaning against the heat,
no wind at my back,
I realize I could melt
and become a part of the sidewalk cracks forever,
a memory without a tombstone
heralding the early days
when we were young.
And I would only cool the heat
for a minute.
My monument would be that I stayed here,
Then left,
to become a memory,
forever to be shaped by other memories.

What I was, I might be again,
in someone else’s mind.

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