did anyone watch him
take that unusual walk
after making stale promises
to the mirror faces
he knew so clear
that held him so dear
just like the brush
all fresh with paint
and some sludge of the river
that never did return him
despite the promise of the giver

you slipped
so suddenly away
that even now
every night and day
stands barred by the
words and things
i cannot do for they
would remind me of you

because i write
in words away from your own
do not destine me
to be woebegone
for you may have seen
the world a bit gay
but I have also
found a place to stay
whether in my drudgery
or my elusive dreams
or in the life
of the greens and streams

a question slight
or an eclipsed delight
on my way to the moon
a little too soon

He shifted his weight from one foot to another as he rang the bell. He questioned himself as to why he was standing in front of this door again. Yet again. While waiting for the door to be opened, he surveyed his clothes. Yes, the tear in his t-shirt was hardly visible. Yes, the ink he'd dropped on his trousers was now dulled by the dirt and grime. Yes, how old his shoes were could very well be passed off with a whine about the dust on the city's roads. Yes, he said to himself as he wiped his eyes just in time. She opened the door.

As he walked in, he handed her a fresh set of white flowers he'd picked off a plant on his way. They spoke of the weather outside but not a word was uttered about the weather inside his mind. Was a storm brewing? Had the rain stopped? Would the sun ever shine like it used to? He shook off the questions lest she saw. Yet she saw that his eyes were full of questions, that his t-shirt had a tear for it was the only thing he had to wear, that his shoes resembled a mouth open, and that his trousers had not been cleaned barring the sudden afternoon showers.

Small talk has an expiry period as though it were a medicine. Soon it was time to leave. He wished he could stay longer. "Not that hungry" he said in the hopes that she might insist to cook him something warm, maybe an egg, maybe coffee in a keg. But life has its ways, people have their days, and his days were probably over. He left saying his son had been repeatedly asking him to join in their friday dinner.

As he walked down the steps, the flat numbers began to stare back at him. Where would he go next? He collected his bag from the security and made another friendly call but cellphones can shut the world out and then, who was he in the world to anyone? A worthless son? A repenting husband? An unwanted father? A guilty man? A nobody? An outsider? Open the door to accept an outsider, would you?

as you went

if you had only lent

to the one left behind

a fraction of your strength

the many whys
of my livid life
are all over the skies
and welling in my own eyes