It was February

I hit upon a strategy.
When my own thoughts
became enemies
circling, stalking
I breathed them out.
But the strategy failed.
Exhaled as carbon monoxide
they came back in the guise
of oxygen.
Still I insisted it was
a physical malfunction
and went looking for a mechanic.
A cold wind blew across
Clapham Common
rearranging the hair
of the unreasonably combed.
It was February
and seventeen days had passed
since that inexplicable incident
with the car.

				Clapham,1992

	John Rule, 2004
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