I saw him,
under
halogen haze
never days
a child I thought
no, a man,
tiny, with
a quick gait
trying
to outrun
fate
or an imagined
pit bull
always,
a white
football helmet
he wore
always,
he waved,
but always
he was mute
once,
I was
close enough
to see his face,
a smile
behind which lay
a secret
no modern
alchemy could
make him forget
a code
no white coat God
could decipher
a Mona Lisa smile
when I was expecting
a Munch scream
why the helmet
from what
was he fearing
assault--the asphalt?
stones cast from
the heavens
he saw only
under cover
of night?
I heard his mother died;
then he disappeared
perhaps she yet
laced his shoes
before his nocturnal
sojourns
and strapped
the helmet on
his head
I look for
him, and
other night
walkers, though
his once upon
a time is
memory

but that handle was made for his hand
hand - handle
handle - hand

the fingers would close
around it to never let go
It had to have flesh around it
at all times
But the blade...
the blade was still naked. He couldn't let
the blade naked
It wasn't fair

"So that's why you stabbed your
mommy then?" the psychiatrist asked him.

"Yes," he said.

"The knife is more important
to you than mommy?"

"The knife listens. Mommy doesn't."

Her head upon my chest
Resting; sobbing
Her arms around me
And mine around her
I know this feeling
I've been there before
I wish I could just take it
Free you of this burden
It's the least I could do for you
To bear the weight of your pain
It's my duty to protect you
Especially when you cannot protect yourself

and if you are to love,
love as the moon loves;
it does not seal the night-
it only unveils the beauty
of the dark.