I saw him
huddled against the rain and wind
that fell from angry purple skies.
he was wandering,
as only lonely men do,
through a city with no name.
the streets were littered with the brokenness
of so many shattered souls, frozen.
he stumbled through the ice,
kicked at a hand or piece of heart,
shoulders slumped from a single gossamer thread
that had strewn itself, naked,
across his back and around his neck.
he stopped and bent over --
looking like nothing so much as folded zen --
hand out-stretched, reaching for some article
that only he saw.
instead, his hand found only those fractured gelid remains
of a thousand forgotten dreams.
with slow, arthritic movements he picked up
the eye of a long-ago ex-lover
and stared into its icy depths.
when once he'd always said she had stars in her eyes
he discovered now that they were quasars.
a single tear fell from his rheumatic orb to hers
and was lost amongst the infinite falling sadness
that pounded down as heaven opened
and loosed its grief upon him.

09/23/2001

Posted on 09/23/2001
Copyright © 2024 Gary Hoffmann