22

I sit

watch the flow
of people

the shuffle of feet
with their different sounds
according to their shoes

I see shapes of faces

unsmiling lips

their void curve
denounce this night

yet unseen

the gossamer curtain’s
fall
that defines
their soul’s duality

the divergent reality
through which
truth stumbles blind

to move in the world
rough as a rope
taut as every promise made

frayed as wisdom
leaned in
whispered from behind

block the fist
ease the ego
broker détente

bandage wounds
tend the bruises
the insults

grab at time
like dropped money

I might learn
a thing or two
tonight

but someone
must release the light

so I can shine
like a little boy
who likes ice cream
most of all

this boy
reads old men’s minds

he does not eat meat

I will not eat meat

so I notice the shoes

the belts
the bags

all made of leather

I feel a shiver

a sad imbalance

a confliction
in my soul

so

I’ll practice non-attachment
because I can

but pieces of me
stick
to whoever gets too close

you may have seen me

silhouetted against the sky
the coldest night in January

howling
with the frozen moon

a duet
to make coyotes
cower in their dens

then moon and I
sneak

among cages of studs
& trusses
we run

from room to imaginary room

the whole world
close enough to touch

we eat a midnight lunch

white cheese sandwiches
perfumed with foreign lands

and onion thoughts
layered deep

show mercy
peel back the layers

peel me away

thin by thin
skin by skin
to my quivering soul

I hope I am not
hideous in your sight

these thoughts
become too heavy to hold

or chew
or swallow

or lug in a massive bag

my thoughts

bonewhite lies
of morality plays
open for you to peak

hope they are not
hideous in your sight

hope they do not
make you cry

as you peel back
all the layers

onion
thought
layers

held fast and firm

like a carapace
to which
I’m stitched
and welded

and can no more leave
than you can truly enter

they tie me down
sometimes

but sometimes
barely so

survivor that I am

the inescapable optimism
in my barebones grin

flashes

in the brittle moonlight

a patrolman
comes to where I sit
to see

his beam
blinds the stars
from my eyes

beneath his warm smile

his radar eyes
scan the forgotten creases
and clandestine getaways
in my mind

standing over
he looks down

one of us can learn
a thing or two tonight

if someone
will release the light

 

inspired by a readwritepoem prompt

• digital art above, entitled “drifting/dreaming”, created by the author