Remember how you once were
the ice cream vendor
on a hot summer day?
And then your sunken eyes
reflect the truth
the way the sea recedes
and reveals empty shells.
Aren’t you a shell?
A hardened hollow structure
of vestiges from an ambitious past,
crudely assembled by unsure hands.
The years have caught up with you
and left much behind,
littering your memories
at each familiar turn.
I am right beside her
Lying in bed
We are awake and aware
Our hearts not in our occupations
Overworking our idleness
Just praying for the other
To fall asleep
And then a minute later
I sleep myself
Surely one day
I’ll roam the streets of Guadalajara
the way it befits them.
Now, bound by my feet,
subject to my senses that
influence more than just
the purposeless splash of colour,
the true sentence,
the unremarkable feeling or detail,
I recognize the irony
of being imprisoned within
my scaffold of convenience.
The way is long and unfamiliar,
as far adrift from the world
as my understanding of it,
and as free of inhibitions and restraints,
as I might never be comfortable with.
If only I were still a bystander
and mock those deeply entrenched
in the purportedly essential games
of daily life
Instead I use these feeble
and intermittent attempts
to find a certain solace behind
the thin veil of delusion
I couldn’t possibly be scraping at the bottom;
That’s a cowardly thought and
a surrender to the pervasive lethargy
that is so easily blamed on the times
If nothing else, I realize that
the old adage about work over ability
holds well in an attention deficit world
even if only till I choose to remember it
Here is the visible misfortune of a friend
and the degree of my own indifference
It isn’t the same when,
far removed from my presence,
fanatics kill and burn strangers.
This elicits an immediate reaction
….but not for the stranger,
so perhaps it is the same.
Do I hate bad ideas more
than I love good people?
Is that a natural product of our times?
Or perhaps this is a grotesque evasion
of a problem that may not be singular to me
but is more intrinsic than I’d like to admit.