When he and I had first met
It was different.
A shared love of music, in general,
Of course,
And a dead dog, he couldn’t forget about.

We were both afraid of the walls.
Couldn’t be kept
Inside them, without
Metallic assistance.
I didn’t, and don’t.
“Keep in touch.”

A fluorescent barrage of
Bright blows to the body.
Overwhelmed, under-appreciated, and
At this point,
Unemployed.
Could you please
Allow the lights
A chance to let up,
A little?
I feel punch-drunk.

And, ultimately, exhausted,
From searching faces
For more faces.
Rapid-fire sighs, and
Ever-tired eyes.
Maybe the occasional metaphor.
“Irrelevance is an impala.
Or at least I think it is.”

He used to break up discussions,
By way of the occasional
Canine-inspired anecdote.
They kept telling him,
“It is unhealthy to want for love.”
His Honesty kept telling me
“They’re ******* wrong.”

Am I just a city boy?
In a city setting?
With city dreams? And rural motivation?
With pitchfork in hand,
And Pitchfork on screen.
Cigarette. Dangling.
Torch extinguished.
Working wonders, under no lights at all?

Well, I saw him today.
He was with two other people, both shorter than him
But all three smiling.
He seemed to have forgotten something.
You can’t bring your new dog
Into the mall.
I wasn’t going to tell
Him that.