The Imaginary Man

a short story in a poetic verse

Passenger as always;

eyes forward, towards the night.

Rights and many lefts,

a maze from strange sight;

not the right, but the man on the left.

1, 2, 3 steps, an imaginary death awaits,

dark skin with a subtle white in his palm.

Moves of such steady nature,

eyes forward

like mine towards our way back home.

Author's Note

6/19/15