Full Circle
had been chasing the doughnut on
the coffee shop counter…zooming
along fresh & tied to a piece of
fishing line…the carrot on the stick…
the crumbs from the table…the
bits & pieces left over from the crash.
grew up lonely, not accumulating
kisses, but learning from the looks &
failures of others, finding new ways to
enjoy the insignificance of existence,
seeing it all as from a train window
cruising by at speeds not yet registered
on anybody’s radar.
& those who had been the kiss collectors,
those who rose, they fell, the never-look-
back-on-high-school cliché rang true &
suddenly, like Dorothy knocking about her
ruby slippers, it all came round full circle.
walking through the old home town was
found to be funny, as the want to steer
clear of faces from the past mixed with a
recognition of the mortality which now
seemed so real, when in past it was hardly
ever talked about, except by those
interested early on in suicide---and those
that went through with it, some were
successful, some screwed themselves over
for life & some made a “cry for help”
which more than often goes unheard.
face to face with a former classmate, a
friend of a friend of way back when, the
absence of memory on their part seems so
baffling & it makes the wonderer wonder
about how much has happened in their life
to shake them senseless or to shake some
sense into them---either way, they have
forgotten what is remembered & so rather
than get the spoon & stir it up again,
back to the chasing of the doughnut…back to
that hanging carrot…back to the crumbs,
the bits & pieces, the anonymity of the
metropolis.
Copyright © Andrew Delapruch | Year Posted 2012
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