We
Meet Briefly, If At All
They
are digging a new grave in the cemetery
as
I round the corner on my walk, the machines clank and clatter
like
ghosts shaking out their bones
It
is a good reminder, I think
about
where it all ends
in
the end
and
what we can do between now
and
then.
The
ghosts whisper from the edges,
peeking
between gravestones
daring
me to look back
but
I am too superstitious
and
I know that if I do
and
if I am seen by their empty eyes
I
cannot be unseen.
The
sidewalk is empty
except
for one thin girl
leaning
against the light post waiting on the bus
and
another man coming towards us.
He
is ambling, headphones in his ears, seemingly calm.
The
three of us are like meteors traveling through the night sky.
The
only living things in New York about to come together
and
then depart for good
and
I think it works that way.
We
meet briefly, if at all.
But
he stops near a discarded television set instead.
He
considers it for a moment before with a scream,
he
kicks it.
Hard.
Harder.
Again
and again, the plastic exploding under his foot
is
not enough and now he picks up the stand and lifts it over his head
slamming
it again and again into the screen
which
bends and breaks under the assault.
I
freeze
press
myself against the wrought iron bars of the cemetery
and
beg the ghosts to take me with them,
take
me down,
take
me into the sky
take
me anywhere but here
Take
me away from this rage.
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