Icy, glistening rain splatters

onto damp, muddy wood

Streams of water flow off

The unstable deck

Wildflowers grow where herbs

Once grew

Squirrels and chipmunks come

And go

A cardinal, a bluejay, and

A robin all fly by

None stop except the dove

Whose home is nestled in a nook

Atop the house

Rays of light peek through

Retreating clouds

I catch a glimpse through drops

Of rain

The light is sparse yet bright

Almost platinum

The wind gusts by

Almost as if it’s demanding my attention

Chimes hanging off a worn and old

Dream catcher sing to the tune

Of the angry wind

I wonder what dreams have been caught…

I inhale the humid earthy and crisp air

I exhale

The sweet fragrance of wet wildflowers

Fills the air

I pause

As I look around and see light as

It’s been dispersed

I look beyond and

I hear birdsongs and crickets harmonize

It feels serene

To have seen

Beyond the shattered light

Shhhh…

“I hear something,”

“I can’t hear anything..."

Shhhh…

“--listen!”

“Can you see--”

“--that!”

“Oh…..Wait--”

“--it’s gone..”

A dark, rugged, almost disheveled outline

lurks--

--in the corner of my eye.

Perhaps it is a person,

someone... I recognize?

Could it be,

someone I once knew?

Or, maybe it's someone I just can’t seem to place?

That face.. If only I could get a closer look--

--that sharp chin protrudes,

almost... snarkily..

Like its jeering..

...At, (I think), me?

And..

..That walk--

--the way those steps are paced..

One foot after the other, slow yet--

--purposeful (?)

I can’t really tell,

who’s following me?

Whoever it is--

--or, rather, whatever it is

seems to know me.

There’s this feeling,

I can't seem to shake..

You know? Or maybe it’s just me...

It’s indescribable..

It’s like a mask, like the first layer of my face…

As if it’s been peeled back, except--

--it’s not just one mask or just one layer…

Rather, it’s like... I’m bare.

Bare.

Not sure if that actually captures it--

--but it’s a feeling,

of being known..

Of not having any cards to play…

It’s really bugging me..

Who or what is this--

--entity?

(I’m not even sure what to call it, or her, or him..)

Am I special? Is it just following me?

Or does everyone have their own--

--special... friend?

(let’s call it that.)

This special friend seems sinister..

Almost scheming,

waiting, as if to pounce,

on a moments notice..

On who? Honestly...

I think it's waiting for me..

(But, why?)

I look around..

It seems so silent yet--

--not the silence of absence,

rather the silence of hushed tones,

suppressed feelings,

hurt yet veiled emotions..

I look closely..

And maybe it’s just me, but I feel--

--better? Maybe, I mean, just a little,

at least...relatively.

Why this sudden change? Suddenly,

I feel so calm.. (I think…)

I can see.

I can see others..

I mean, more ‘special friends’...

It’s not just me--

--there are so many, and they seem to be--

--I suppose, stuck to every person I see.

Some people, seem to have not one,

but two, two special friends..

Actually, some people seem to be, err,--

--I guess, popular…

I wonder, do I just have one?

Or maybe, there are more,

will they join me?

If I try keep walking..

Let’s see..

I quicken my pace,

I try altering it, taking different paths,

I try to fuse the outline of my special friend with others

(You know? By trying to walk close, and skirt buildings and crowds..)

I start glancing around,

trying hard to be discreet..

I don’t want them to know,

that I’m looking.

(can they see? would they know? I’m not sure

exactly..)

It almost seems like they’re onto me..

It seems I have more..

Or at least, I have grown somewhat of a...

...following (?)

They match my pace,

and seem to encase me..

Or rather, encase my outline..

I actually like this, it’s like.. I have friends..

Real friends, only ones I can see.

It’s strange.. Hmm, let me try think about this, or rather,

about them--

--I need a minute.

(seconds later)

Oh.. bad move.

I try to project my voice, make it loud,

unwavering, fearless…

I don't want them to know. (that…

..I know, I made a mistake.)

“Can anyone hear me?”

I hear echoes...

...echoes of laughs, cries, and shrieks.

I can’t shake it.

I can’t shake them.

My mind. My head, rather, feels…

..heavy, faint, light, rejuvenated, and, honestly,

kind of awake...

But… it hurts,

a lot.

I have no cards to play,

No moves.. Where do I even go?

I can’t go home, I think they’d follow me.

Or maybe they are already there, or others may be there,

you know?

Waiting for me..

I thought this was good, I made peace,

these friends, seem to know me.. they know

my thoughts, my feelings, and...

...actually, I think they can even

hear my heartbeat.

I look around, trying hard to soak in

whatever I can see, I don’t want them to take that

away from me..

Can they do that? (I’m not really sure.. )

I want to wonder, how others feel.

Or how they are coping.. You know?

Like other people, like me..

But. I can’t wonder, I’m scared--

--to think.

To have thoughts, as...

...my mind, it’s exposed. Bare.

They are growing stronger, at least I think.

They have this--

--this, power..

It’s captivating, fierce, and rather compelling.

I can’t resist, really…

...maybe if I stick with it,

it’ll get better?

(minutes later)

Open, bare, exposed--

--land is all I see

in the distance…

..I can’t find my home.

Do I have a home? Or, rather, did I?

I dared to wonder:

Where are all the people?

And...err, ‘special friends’?

I see…

...shadows,

(I think?)

But no people, no special friends,

just shadows.

I look up, and...

...I see clouds, but--

--no sky.

Strange.

But..

..I can hear.

(Like, a lot.. And,

actually all at once. Multiple voices..

Maybe the same echoes from before, those--

--laughs, cries, and shrieks)

It seems so distant, yet so close,

to me, you know?

(I mean, they, the shadows, they seem so distant

yet close, to me, physically..)

But, I can’t seem to get close enough,

It’s like they’re special.

Aloof, but somewhat above..me

(?)

They seem organized, like more than, err--

--you know, people?

Like they’re in sync.. Their thoughts and bodies are..

..one.

Dare I think: they are happy (?)

But.. how? So exposed, so bare,

so…. Singular...

(I guess maybe they seem so independently singular,

yet, err--they're... a unit, you know? The way they..

..operate (?))

(hours later)

It dawns on me…

I, too, am one of them.

I look down, I see..

..a dark outline and a stark cast of gray shades, projecting

onto flat gravel. I, too, have been

consumed.

there was a prince cursed as a Beast,

wealthy yet a pauper. It was like he was carrying

a wreath of rocks.

unleashed,

my love is a Beast,

fierce like dagger-shaped icicles,

yet gentle like the Rose.

the irony...

in something so fragrant and delicate,

determining a destiny so

momentous, the destiny itself could crush

mountains, forget a few petals.

my love is a Rose,

a juicy ruby

encased in crystal.

my love is the very fateful Rose

belonging to the misfortuned Beast.

who so ferociously waits for

a turn in destiny, where

sharp thorns disintegrate, and

velvety petals overtake, as

cushion for the heart.

“Well what?”

it’s complicated...

my spidery, clumpy, crusty, day-old mascara coated eyelashes

are drooping,

they are heavy.

they flutter..

these eyelashes, my eyelashes,

flutter--

"--purposefully?"

now why would I purposefully flutter my eyelashes?

bashful, kind niceties fall

FLAT.

flat, in the face of Reality..

they flutter, yes, but--

not romantically, not flirtatiously, nor bashfully,

rather--

sleepily, groggily, disillusioned...

heavy and aching,

these eyelashes, these delicate eyelashes,

they feel the weight of the world.

they struggle to let in the light,

of bright day..

almost wishing they were resting,

covering aching, sore eyes..

yearning--

for darkness.

“Why?”

Well,

it’s complicated.

“how can ones eyelashes feel weight, any weight?

let alone that of an enormous planet?

to say they feel the weight of the world...

what a strange saying..”

--Uh, really??

this world, these people, this life,

it’s all too simple..

“Just open your eyes…”

But--

“Why not?”

Why not what?

Open my eyes?

Oh,

Well,

it’s complicated.

when I open my eyes, I see--

disorder, disillusion, confusion.

you know what I mean?

when these cold, dry, itchy eyes were closed,

they could see.

“How?”

Well,

it's complicated.

BUT let me try to explain,

There were trees, and not just any trees--

These were greener, richer, fuller than the average..

There were flowers, and not just any flowers--

These were more vibrant, brighter, larger than the average..

There were streams, and not just any streams--

These were crisper, fiercer yet calmer than the average..

There were bridges, and not just any bridges--

These were hopeful, purposeful, better painted than the average..

now--

“How could all this be seen? That too--

From, darkness?”

Well,

it’s complicated.

golden rays

cast a shadow over the city.

the cool breeze

contrasts the hot, humid air.

the aromatic cortado from literati coffee

is inhaled.

the young motorcyclist waiting at the red light

fidgets and looks anxious

as his ride rattles angrily—

clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack.

the mustard traffic light changes to an alarmingly

bright shade of green,

as it glistens in the heavy, beating sun.

the gentle breeze

causes it to rock,

back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

the pedestrian signal, consistent

and punctual, faithfully alternates

between,

walk, don’t walk, walk, don’t walk, walk, don’t walk.

the pedestrian crossing is marked,

with equidistant thick lines, shaded in

the snowy color of sunscreen.

a fast toddler darts to the crossing as

a young couple jump to grab ahold of him.

the avocado green street signs for the

E. Washington and S. Fourth intersection

add a pop of color, don’t you think?

the picturesque scene,

paints an illusion that is order, even perfection.

a cool shade now covers the streets,

the dull brick of the Fifth Third Bank building

now embodies the color of burnt crust.

the cool breeze is now in icy harmony

with the dropping temperatures,

of an Ann Arbor night.