You will see angry men, sensitive and insecure. Take off your angry sunglasses! Or an old lady reaching for French bread pizzas in the frozen section.
“Where is my past of mounding dough down some stone canal in France?” A woman – Lone. “Where are my memories? Don’t you get them anymore?”
With dirty eyes peeking from a barred pharmacy window facing the street.
An escape from noise – To watch you
Take off your wig on the cobblestone…
“Sure let’s crack it open, eh?”
Separating yourself from the identity that your family has only recently learned to love – and around the corner your running…
And old men shoot the enemy as they stumble away, down some railroad tracks in Prague, Manhatten, or Nice
I’ve seen leaders send their armies through the golden gates unlocked by Peter. Out these doors you left a man and returned beyond recognition, clawing through clouds and metal in order to reach the ones you love.
That loved you… Those who are no longer with you on Earth
Have forgotten the sound of your voice, and in the mirror stands a different man, numb – and sad like always in the dark giggling, clutching your knees and idiot.
A familiar deja vu flashing daily images
One million men across the country, eyes rolling, thinking of you – With disease,
A shining light reaches a dark mirror, hidden past crooked branches in the forest – Whose fingers peeled the scalp of a flying witch, and held her hair loosely by the nail.
A hound there, led by his master, watches the navy sky tirelessly
While gracious hunter peers past overgrown eyebrows.
I can never remember, or realize, why I find myself in situations such as these; watching people in buildings where I shouldn’t spend so much of my time.
People whose hair matches their skin matches their eyes that matches their clothes,
With freckles and one just a little bigger than the others underneath their eye, and cursive tattoos of flowers on the shoulder, just visiting.
One chef comes through the scene collecting ingredients for tonight’s dinner – first time meeting the new parents.
My past is asleep
Time moves oddly, and slowly….
Glasses go by biting into jelly-filled donut, large.
I hardly find justification for my beliefs or self-assurance, or what in particular it is that I take offense to —
So how can I feel anyone else is justified in their own narrow-mindedness and habitual tendencies?
Life is bought with Bleach ad things are fine.
They slide the Nickel-ads off the stack, dozing off before reaching he door befuddled by drunk from last night, the night before.
My Papa doesn’t recognize me today. I share his name, they used to all me his boy.
Old ladies grab condolence cards and hurry away, they can’t steal, an kids crowd the doorway in an unbroken stream.