friday afternoon
hands raised
still colored and stained
with the paint
from yesterday

sitting
fidgeting
not wanting to wait

I live for this day


standing there
watching the same
the day
for which I live
day after day

asked to stand
in front of them

and so I say

for show-and-tell
I brought my best friend

an empty lobby... behind the counter,
no one waits
empty chairs gathered around
just taking up space
paper walls cracked with time
and stained with age
so this is home...

an outline
where the calendar used to hang
the clock
stuck at three
and the sun hasn't shone for days

behind the counter
in another room
a man breathing
like the air will leave him soon

hey, mister
i'm looking for somebody...
i was hoping you could help me...

the man gets off his seat
and as he shifts
without a sound,
the old chair squeaks
he finds his balance
and makes his way to me...

in his hand
a walking cane
across his heart
a darkened stain
the fear and tears he bares
he bares the pain

you could see it in his eyes
the eyes that don't see past time

one foot in front of the other
one step, and then another
walking backwards
backwards in time
he takes his
and time takes him

he reaches the counter
and looks me in the eye...

he speaks his words
like a sweet soft song
he speaks with a half-smile
to hide all that's wrong:

up the stairs,
the second floor
on the right,
the second door...

he listens...
as i make my way to where he led
he listens...
painting a picture in his head
he listens...
to all that's dead

up the stairs,
the second floor
on the right,
the second door

deeper...
the heat draped in the sky,
the stars still in the night
deeper...
deeper into gray,
deeper and further away

the curtains
on the window down the hall
open, just to let the dust in
then let it fall
gathering with time
like missing pieces to a plan
never to see the same place again
from where they first began

the walls like jagged stone
edges chipped away
discolored with the tint
of never seeing day
and yet,
the night still fades

deeper...

calling up from the bottom,
up from the first floor,
an old voice in heavy gasps:

she checked out
some time before

and so i stand...
a stranger at the second door

back against the wall
the ground weightless beneath my feet
my head buried in my hands
listening...
...a beat

between the cracks and gaps
falling to the ground
falling...
without a sound

in a casual masquerade
      we found ourselves
      the two of us, crowded and alone
      being the only ones exposed

we danced to music
      the both of us didn't care for
      we didn't mind, either, the windows
      half open or half closed

forgetting our footing
      dancing then broken by laughter
      i fell into your eyes, at first led my toes
      how we flowed, you flowed

how a boundary, our ceiling
      had fallen once more like shattered pieces
      of a mirror image no one really knows
      still it grows, and we're all alone

i lie awake and i
reflect on my affection
somewhat consciously...

though i write and breathe with
the same, flowing alertness,
my thoughts, however, are not as graceful...

i find you somewhere
within this maze, with its throbbing walls
and musty confusion
to which i find no end.
at every turn, i falter
and where most routes are chosen,
i find i'm becoming better acquainted
with the ground:

it's endless, senseless detail,
lack of order.
we have our similarities, he and i...
though, as i walk upon him
he ages,
as do i,
and in the lapse of time
we only grow closer
usually by falling
and leaving our mark behind.


this is my journey to you,
this is my journey through you:
may they both be led happily
and in the same way, end,
though all the while, happiness being
knowing that it never does

Stand tall, dark and peaceful Night;
fall not into the open arms
of the distant fading light,
for, like the sun, alarms
are, too, destined to set.
But instead, March on
through fields of dancing, green,
endless shamrock silhouette,
where the beds of dirt they rest upon
are, in waking, always the most serene.