The Invisible People
I meet them everywhere,
there are the expected places,
the park, a bar, a beach boardwalk,
they carry their sadness
like an old coat in summertime
but it's never summer
You can see them feeding the pigeons
the ducks, the squirrels, the rats, the ravens,...
It's one way to get seen, by someone or something
on a cold day, a cold bench,
Sometimes it's on the train or bus.
Sitting next to someone,
their elbow against yours,
their knee against yours,
a secret pleasure,
It's hard to explain how it starts
Does an arm become invisible first,
the head? the foot?
Does it matter?
Slowly the quicksand pulls you in
A fight with family, a death of a friend,
And there's nothing in the mirror.
A day passes without a word
then a week, and then even a smile
from the grocery clerk is a treasure.
Sitting at a diner at 2 am,
just being asked for coffee is nice.
For those timeless seconds everything is ok again,
before the trip home,,
where silence follows,
along with loneliness,
as close as two old friends.
...and the world goes on.