He remembered the one instance
His father spent time with him.
An autumn day, the smell of
Nature invigorating. Quietly
Walking along, leaves alternately
Crunching and squishing.
Rivulets sparkling; a bubbling,
Gurgling, comforting symphony.
An arm around his shoulder,
Only that one time.
Not sure what to
Say when the request
Is made, perhaps it
Signals the end of a
Brief relationship,
But most likely just
Reflects two beings
On different paths,
Neither better.
One time, unconditional, unexpected,
Unadulterated by churning insecurity,
Endless pins piercing skin, gradually
Increasing intensity, perpetual lack of
Feeling. Say something, do something
Different, differently, deferentially,
Deliberately aid someone, something
Bigger than you, though impossible.
Puffed chest and blustery proclamations,
Interminable, unrequited, unalleviated.
Stop and think for a moment,
Abandon superfluous encumbrance.
Up the mountain, through the
Penumbra, clarity unobscured.
A dark smokestack belches filth
Into a resigned sky. Trudging,
Servile to instinct and unchecked
Impulse. Clear away the dust.
It’s always the
Same story:
Something happens
And the parents
Stand by muttering
That they never
Saw it coming,
At once absolving
Themselves of any
Responsibility and
Avoiding having to
Admit they were
Part of the mess.
He doesn’t feel good
About himself, hasn’t
Come to grips with
Some, if not all, of
The questions that
Keep him from sleeping.
He attaches himself
To promised comfort,
Quells his doubts
By pressuring others
To do the same,
Stumbling together in
Willful ignorance,
Unopened eyes,
Closed hearts.
Tension-filled gait,
Taught face,
Clutching phone,
Walking determinedly
Toward unseen goal.
One look away from
Umbrage.
One comment away from
Explosion.
One step away from
Meltdown.
Keep it together,
Barely.
A jabbering group of
Immaculately appointed
Tourists steps off
The luxury coach that’s
Carted them through
The objectionable parts
Of the city to the
Retail village built
For just this purpose,
Where unsmiling locals
Wearing fake costumes
Peddle inauthentic wares
To the delight of visitors
Who couldn’t care less
About their plight,
How phony this all is,
As they steal another
Soul through their cameras.
At the supermarket,
Averting her eyes,
Many recognize
What’s going on,
She wishes they didn’t.
Struggling through the day,
Not yet in a place
Where she believes
In her worth,
That she doesn’t
Deserve this.
