anytime coming home from an
evening out
even just a short nighttime of
cab rides
and
quick little walks from
point a to
point b
anytime after walking past the
dogs on the
street,
making sounds in the cab,
watching people
scale walls
i come home
excited to sleep and excited
to race through the day tomorrow, and
a man in
a light tan sweatshirt
meets me at the top of
the first flight of stairs
i only see him when i'm halfway up
my fingers are skipping the brick wall's surface
and
sand is tickling my knuckles
i realize, he pulls some
sort of gun
and since this is only a
subconscious fantasy
and since
i know nothing of firearms or anything like that
i realize, he pulls some sort of gun
and
shoots me in the chest, and it's a dramatic
fall to the ground, and i remember that
i still want tomorrow
i only see him when i'm halfway up and by then
i'm falling down
and i reach my
peak ascension falling backwards away
from this man, and at that point, he's
gone.
i
keep walking up the stairs, wondering why my mind
wants me to feel like
i deserve destruction
for experiencing a
simple kind of
pleasure.
it seems strange, i know, but it's happened
the last three evenings, and again just
ten minutes ago
on the stairs up here
tonight.
and while i don't understand what my mind is
telling me and while i don't understand why i have so
much
guilt manifested this way
i take
solace in the fact that when i pass the first landing
it's always going to be smooth sailing
and
i get tomorrow and get to do it again.
if only
every man had a man in tan
to remind him that he's not being killed for
entertaining the idea of
a forward moving existence
and if only every man had a man in tan
to remind him that the bodies in the wake are
there so we can see that
we're moving on past them
and if only every man had a man in tan
and two more flights of stairs in which
he is reborn
he might get to feel the way that i do now
which, if you cant tell
is realization of this life and that there's
always a chance to try it
again.