Thirty Six

 

 

On a bench

by the river,

shadowed by mountains

of glass and steel;

in filthy clothes

and worn out shoes

I sit.

 

One by one they pass;

the long parade of beautiful women

who will never know me,

never want me,

never love me.

 

Fearless pigeons gather at my feet

and await the obligatory crumb.

To them I’m no different

from the well-dressed people

of the stock exchange

who throw silk ties over their shoulders

and eat their lunch in the park.

 

But today I won’t eat;

nor will I soon be returning

to the comfort

of an air-conditioned office;

no!

 

My work, it winds

through dirty tunnels,

spans crumbling bridges,

stretches 'cross The Great Lawn

in the warm summer sun,

and permeates these hallowed city streets.

I grew up here.

I grew down here.

I grew here.

 

Here,

where lessons taught

were soon unlearned,

 

where I willingly

traded loneliness

for pain.

 

where, despite a scarred

and trampled heart

I still have to believe

in something.              

 

 And I know     

that somewhere,

nestled deep in the womb of humanity,

a light that is hope

flickers still.

 

But, too long days

of crippling fear

and endless nights of no one there,

leave me to drown

under waves of promise,

and all this potential

will choke me to death.

 

This morning I left my apartment

in search of a miracle…

or maybe some tragedy

to end this all.

 

But always, I find myself

here in the middle,

failing at everything

with so much time behind me.

How have I let this happen again?

 

Today I’m Thirty Six.