LIfe and Memory

Clear night air.
Stars are shining,
twinkling in the black curtain.
My footsteps softly echo,
off of the buildings.
And cars.

This late there isn't a soul.
Not a figure to see me,
Not a person to hear me.
Peace.

An orange glow,
Radiating streetlamps.
Little reflections.
Heavy shadows.
A shiver.
Lift the zipper of my jacket.
Raise my hood to the cold.

A chilly spring night.
No winter chill,
a soft kissing breeze
caresses my cheek.
I renew my walk again.

Orion shines above,
above an empty garage.
Windows boarded,
door askew.
Weeds and trash,
lay strewn.

A dog barks,
a car plods on by.
Faint lights play across the ground.
It's peaceful here.
Where ever I am.
This worn out jacket,
keeps in the heat.
A shield from the cold.

My hands and knuckles numbed,
and the safety of my pockets
where my knife lies nestled in.
Distantly there's a sound.
Soft yet there's a sound.
A strange sound.
A foreign sound,
that at this hour doesn't fit the score.

I keep moving.
It does not overtly perturb.
Passing a closed drugstore,
an office, offices,
of lawyers,
and accountants.
Get your taxes done!
Save yourself some!
The sound still there,
it's volume begins to rise.

From the soft indistinguishable rumble,
it now is recognized.
A scream.
A harsh, bloodcurdling scream.
I stagger from the pitch.
A bead of sweat,
creeps down my spine.
My hair stands on end,
and I clutch my head.

Louder and louder the scream.
Stumbling down the street,
bumping off a pole,
ripping several flyers,
knocking over trashcans
spilling their contents into the gutter.
I clip the wall and drop.
To my knees, I curl up.
Clutching my ringing head.
Covering my ears does nothing.
There is no source.

No lights flick on.
No discernible sight,
or commotion from such a blasting noise.
Where is it.
Through the pain in my head,
my blurring vision from the sweat,
no source.
But there is.
It's me.

I'm screaming,
no sweat blurs my eyes,
but tears.
Such an aching in my chest,
a blackhole blooming in,
to pull me in, lost.
Where did this come from?
There was no clue for this.
No hint.
No sign.
But there is.
It was always there.

Fumbling in my jacket.
Pocket after pocket,
pulling out old memories.
Pictures.
Notes.
Stones.
Trinkets.
Finally a watch.
A silver pocket watch.
His watch.

Like a switch.
The screaming stops.
Only ringing.
On the ground.
Against these bricks,
the tears begin to fall.
Racking sobs.
Wailing sobs.
Slumping to my side.
Arms wrapped around myself.
Tears darkening the concrete,
drop by drop.

My soul is leaking out,
revealed in this moment.
He's gone.
What I wouldn't give to hear his voice,
hear his words,
feel his presence,
and grasp him,
and hold him close.
The greatest man,
I've ever known.
He's gone.

A soft wind rustles the trees.
Shifting my hood,
tousling my hair.
The lines left by sadness,
chilled by the breeze.
But there's a whisper.
A subtle whisper on the wind.
I'm here.
I'm always here.

The watch feels warm in my hand.
Gently beating,
my heart.
Opening the case,
there he is.
His picture,
his smile.
We have the same smile.
I'm here
I'm always here.

I pull it close and rise.
I smile and I rise.
Gathering my things.
My memories.
My trinkets.
I rise.
He's gone, but he's here.
Like many things,
they change but not to be feared.
It's all a big lesson.
And I just a student.

Wiping my eyes,
a lift them to the sky.
The stars are shining high.
Beneath the Taurus I stand.
Breathing deep I look ahead.
To the sidewalk with no end.
And I keep moving.
Leaving behind some vestige,
at the corner of
Life and Memory