So I've been thinking lately

What if
he's on a journey out to find himself
reading Hemingway and Emerson (his namesake) and roughing it at Walden Pond
smoking foreign cigars
and staring deep into coffee
to decipher the meaning of the swirls of smoke
that rise from it in the morning?
What if
he's asking ChaCha! the meaning of life
or trying out a new brand of shampoo
or attempting to set a high score on Tetris
or out burning down bridges just to see them ablaze
or doing volunteer work,
reading to disabled children at the local library?
What if
he's decided that this is all too much,
that he'd prefer to live in anonymity
trading his celebrity for secretarial work or carrot-harvesting
or breeding exotic fish
or renting out those inflatable jumping-castles?
What if
he's tired of all those books in Technicolor
all the paparazzi out to get him
and commercialize his favorite beanie
just because he's on vacation because he pulled some strings at the office
thus catapulting him into some movie set halfway across the world?
What if he's sick and tired of them hunting down his girlfriend
his dog
that random wizard mentor guy that's a deadringer for Dumbledore?
What if he would rather sit at home and watch the Game Show Network
and change his name to something boring like John instead of living up to a thinker's expectations?
Or maybe just the opposite, he's just watching Family Feud to pass the time because he WANTS to be a thinker
but doesn't know how?
Or maybe Family Feud just makes him lonely because he doesn't have a real family,
just that evil guy with funny glasses and ****** hair and an awful Hamburglar taste in clothes?
What if he's decided he's on the wrong path
and needs to turn his life around?

What if Waldo doesn't want to be found?

I agonised my knees
And spirit
Kneeling hand outstretched
Down to you
You never raised
Your deadringer's face
Then again, I never knew
If I wanted you here
Or secretly yearned
To be dragged down with you.

Flurries have settled
Lurkers leave fading treads
And behind locked doors
They watch in the warmth
And the crew have gone
Where the bitter wind blows
While the silent deadringer
Waits in the snow.

I have not come all this way to harm you
But only to reach for your mind
To fold you in and lock you down
And bend you back to purpose.
I was sent to find your deadringer's face
For I know you heard his call
I know his words marked you
Eternally as one of his own.
You heard his voice swell like the waves of the ocean,
Or a field of corn thrashed by a storm
It had the power to reach across time and seas
Cerebral ****** of ire and unease
And into this cold, forbidding place,
From beyond the grave he sent you his face
You lift your gaze like a demigod
Oh, yes, you know who you remind me of.

Thick helping of camaraderie
Light dressing of distrust
A hint of dreams that died
And shrivelled down to dust in the
Land of soulless buildings under
Bitter snow-filled sky
A serving of suspicion
Furtive glances on the side
Evening draws in early and it maybe masks a threat
The deadringer takes a long drag on his cigarette
The lads are getting loud, already drunk and singing
But they still have an ear out
Above the beer mugs brimming
All is going well and
Things seems so auspicious
But they'll turn on a pinhead if
Someone says something suspicious.