False Spectre

I walked to the bank, listening to movie soundtracks. My
pace was quick; never on the verge of running but feeling as
if I were being pursued by a spectre of my own making.

Sitting there, watching people come and go, I had time to
forget about running away from the ghosts of my despair;
the coffee burnt my tongue while the muffin soothed.

Once I had nothing more to eat, I picked up my coffee and
walked out the door. I moved swiftly, spilling a trail of my
morning brew across the sidewalk. I realize, with every step
I take toward home, that I should make peace with despair.
We will embrace before the rain comes and the sun sets
behind heavy clouds.