THE BANJO
The last one left. He walked out into traffic, Was hit by an oncoming Life. And anchored himself to the Middle of the sea where He and his girl and their dog [And their dreams] Tread water eternally. I watched as he sank And gulped and sometimes A boat would come by and He would put up his feet, Stretch his arms and Say, “This is the good life!” And his girl couldn’t sleep And he found dark, cooling holes to Dip his head into Each evening. I stopped watching. I crossed to the other side And sat on a bench Tied my hands together, And observed passers-by. Solitude. Beautiful rays of sun Pressed through clouds Like red fingers massaging My skull. And when I would relax, They would seep down into Me and grow wings And flutter around in my heart For hours at time. I was never really alon...