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That was then, this is now
A brand new day
A brand new you
Thinking of something
I want to do
I visit a place of ages
Where voices speak to me
New voices and voices so
Old the breath they
Ride on is architecture
And old lawns
In the distance the city
Is filled with sirens
And grit beckoning to me
With its open blouse
And animal fat disguised
With the ancient spices.
If I go to it I know
What will happen all
The same old same old
Hey buddy how are you
Not much yeah see you
But if I remain here
Almost against my will
For a moment something
New may happen a
Synaptic groove etched with
Rebirth and something so utterly
New it doesn’t have a
Word for it yet.
I’ve been here amongst the
Old voices and architecture
Before, sitting with lady bugs and
Auburn colored finches on the
Dedicated benches in the shade.
It never quite grabs me
The way the city does
The stinky old furious
Cacophony of alley cats
And hound dogs
The me that is the animal
Has a way I cannot
Unbecome and I am reminded
Of this as another auburn
Finch floats by
What do these voices have to
Say to me that is germane?
I decide what is important
And what is not, after all
I live with my own consequences.
The point of it all
As wrestled to the ground
Leaving me with too
Cold a breeze against my back
To shudder and lurch into action,
Seeking again
Seeking yet disappointed with the
Feeling that the old voices
Were talking but it was
Just me who wasn’t listening.
Copyright ©
David Esmail
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