Pavement of Repetition Part 1
Walking the path each day
introverted thoughts in
cased in my skull
a boneyard of ebbing
memories and thought-processes
back slightly hunched over
eyes to the ground
seeing earth, stone
cracks, grass, flowers
bird droppings, dog's as well
dotting the slick
pavement of repetition
I occasionally look up
at the sound of honks
and horns, my feet the
usual sound
slap slapping
the pavement of repetition
usually my heart beats
rapidly in my chest as
I increase, speed on
purpose, wanting the rush
the kick, to feel alive
and afloat amongst
a sea of repetition
Day in and day out
I walk briskly from
my lair to my sweat-
shop of endless shelving
the same each day
except when minuet
differences occur to add
layers of perceptions
the unexpected
to the expected
Although the path
may not change the
seasons in their serenity
certaintly do
spring to summer
fall to winter
the breath seen by
all on the day I
saw you
standing there alone
and afraid
the bushes, your neighbors
had the thin coating
of a finished car
covered by dew and
frost
they did not change
and in their immunity
mocked your transformation
I realized that I never
took notice of you
day out and
day in
always looking
never stopping
to see such a
friendly face
you changed from your
puffed up green
to a blood red
your dying friend!
or so it seemed
your veins protruding out
of star-shaped
leaves
you stood there friend
different and changed
no longer content with
the past life you lead
the caterpillar your mentor
you cocooned your inner
voice and thoughts
in a tangled web of
masks the greenery such
an expectation to
the unexpected that you
blended in, disappeared
amongst all of the
clones of leaves of
grass. Yet here you are
standing tall and unique,
yourself changed for
the better. No longer
going with the natural
order of things.
I passed you again,
now looking up
past the pavement
of repetition
and saw you changed
yet again
your stars no longer
hanging and flowing
blood-red energy of
life
NO
they were brown and
puke-green, dried
except when wet by
morning dew and rain
fallen to the ground
dead and you my
friend your branches
old and shriveled
appeared old and
dead. What has
happened friend you
look ill, sick
done in.
Copyright © Colin Amato | Year Posted 2010
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