Its a different town, the one that I enter now.
The milkman stands tall in the fog of the morning.
Wild dogs run wild, hunting for scraps
and it seems as if the whole town is up and alive
So I become someone I am not
I become alive for a moment
and in this embrace of another me,
I see a different town, and perhaps a different me
because all that is worth living for,
is here, right there, in front of me
The sun is not shining; its a cloudy day
yet the leaves have their chins up
as if they do not feed on the sun
but on the energy of me, and the people of this town.
An old lady sits on a bench at the edge of mud house
and she calls me over
With each step that I take,
I notice an odd reality,
the old lady is an anomaly; she is very old
and she’s getting older as I come closer
the wrinkles beneath her eyes grow more defined
her humble-ness becomes apparent with her frail frame
And then something out of the blue occurs
because fury is issuing from her lips.
I clearly fail to grasp why,
but as I drown out the rest of the noise
I listen to her
and I notice the pain in her tone
and this tone tells me a story of a different town
the one I am in now
of how it is not what it seems
of how life isn’t life when its all green
With each word, I toil away for focus
and break down the thought
that this town is leading to a better me,
because I am looking for something
that resides inside of me
and not in any town, or anywhere
where the sun does not shine
or the leaves glow in green
there is nothing to change me
that lies outside of me
and this is where I understand
that life is life, even when its not green.