One Gray Day in April

Like a Skull, Emily Slofstra


You walk past each other,

Each on your own mission,

Never stopping to say “hi”

Or even flash a friendly glance

That says “I hope today treats you well;
”
You don’t even know each other.

You perhaps make courteous eye contact

That says “hey, I recognize you”

But that hardly counts as anything.



Well now it’s too late.



Those feet will

Never, ever

Walk past yours, as you move aside to share the sidewalk.

Those books he carries to every class will

Never

Be picked up again or be shoved hastily in a bag because he’s late.

His Facebook picture will remain the same,

Frozen in time, at that party, that night;

Never, ever
To be updated; those joking wall-posts left unargued.

When asked, his parents’ faces will fall realizing for the

Millionth time that hour that they will

Never, ever

Kiss their son goodbye, or pat him on the back

For a job well done.

Ever.



With these realizations you can’t help but be sad,

Solemnly watching the pathetic rain fall out of the sky,

Too weak to stay in the clouds.

(Of course it’s raining that day – even the weather can’t help be miserable.)

You didn’t even know him, but you feel like those

Falling rain drops: they will


Never, ever

Ever, ever, ever

Ever, ever

Ever


See their world the same, as they splatter

In a million different directions on the

Cold, hard, lifeless pavement.

September 15, 2009 Blueprint Web Administrator No Comments

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