La MArseillaise

I saw the French flag pour through open windows tonihgt. Red and blue walls divided by white trim. I walked through the drizzle of this rain soaked city and love every minute of it. Even the minute where I stepped around puke. Ihave n't made teh trek through closing time in awhile. It wasn't quite there yet but it was close. People pouring out of bars and into cabs, stumbling pedestrians occupying entrie sidewalks and disobeying traffic signals.

I feel lost and right at home.

I wonder wher eyou are.

And if you're thinking of me too.

My life has been a tree. It began in the roots which weren't mine and the trunk was straight and narrow. Now we are dividing in to branches. And the paths are many. Too many to choose. And I dont know where all these things lead. And I'm trying not to use the delete key but it's hard. Forces of habit are hard.

What shall we do?

Shall we conitnue on?

No doubt we shall.

But I can't help getting misty about the whole thing and wishing the decisions weren't mine.