I’m walking down the street
And I see a pigeon, the
Same one that hangs out
Around here all the time.
I say hello and we start
Having the best conversation
Ever, about anything
And everything.
I like talking with him,
He’s the only one who
Actually listens to me.
Letting go once again,
Such a routine ordeal,
Bidding goodbye to so many
People and places dear.
It might get easier,
Though it really doesn’t,
He just pretends to
Get used to it,
Pieces of his self
Left behind.
Many long months of
Forced inactivity.
Staring blankly
Out the window.
No longer part of
The regular world.
To and fro they go,
Living their lives.
Normality such
A foreign concept.
Nothing much going on,
Like every other day.
She remembers when life
Felt full of promise,
When she would wake up
And things mattered,
The excitement of
What was to come,
The joy in even the
Smallest occurrences,
Barely a memory now,
Replaced by a void.
Charting an unsteady course
Home from a party where
He enjoyed twenty too many,
It struck him that he was in an
Unfamiliar house.
Stumbling through rooms,
Desperately trying not
To announce his presence or
Bother anyone,
Maddeningly unable to do
Anything but flounder
Helplessly as he careened
From point to point.
A sad young creature winding
Its way toward a place it
Doesn’t want to be.
He used to effortlessly
Skewer them with irreverent,
Joyously witty, satiric commentary,
Bringing down the haves
With a single clever line,
Speaking truth to power.
At some point something changed.
Eyes dead, demeanor cold,
Disjointed, rambling, uncomfortable
Harangues against the vulnerable.
Selling his soul to fear,
Shilling for his new masters.
An excruciatingly unwelcome moment for
Someone who so desperately needs to
Be loved. The unwavering stare of flowering
Affection, the heightened awareness,
Euphoric rush intermingled with boundless
Expectation. The last look, final embrace,
A beautiful story relegated to the past
Before it commences, a memory to be
Replayed yearningly, repeatedly.
