11/09/2011

My glory days were once, I think, or never.
Time moves one way: over me, through me,
violating, touching everything.
Like most victims, I’m left speechless,
frozen, afraid to act.
There’s no defense and no recourse,
just closed-mouth, eyes-downcast
acceptance.

“This isn’t real,” I spoke aloud, with certainty,
to the uncomfortable folks beside me.
Crosswalk conversation is never welcome,
and crosswalk craziness is the worst.
Maybe a backwards glance, but probably not.
Loneliness lurks in every city sidewalk block,
grasping at ankles as you walk through.
It’s every man for himself out here,
survival of the fittest.

My glory days were yesterday’s mistakes
but my hindsight isn’t 20/20.
Astigmatism distorts everything
or maybe it’s just my brain on drugs.
Nearsightedness matures with time
to farsightedness.
Someday I might see things clearly.