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
Walk past yours, as you move aside to share the sidewalk.
Those books he carries to every class will
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;
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
Kiss their son goodbye, or pat him on the back
For a job well done.
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
Ever, ever, ever
See their world the same, as they splatter
In a million different directions on the
Cold, hard, lifeless pavement.