There they sit staring, and why not?
Why are they there, though, and why am I here
at the back of this cemetery lot?
They're sitting calmly at their fire...
are they drinking beer?
Hmm.
I remember waking up this night with my clothes by my side.
I remember the tombstone, and the anxiousness to proceed.
The feelings of grass on my feet, and nothing to hide.
Carrying my clothes, I guess I was newly freed.
Strange.
There's the gate that I needed to walk through.
Behind that gate was something true, a place I had to go to,
but it wasn't possible this night.
A white truck with black windows was coming through.
Blacker than black were windows with no view.
Somehow, I couldn't let them see me.
Somehow, I was naked and afraid.
That truck was everything that should not be,
and because of it, another path was laid.
So down the graveyard road I went,
unperceived.
Two joggers came running by.
It's funny how they couldn't see me, but it was dark,
and I guess that's just my lot in life.
Walking through a cemetery unseen and stark,
with two campers as witness at the back of a midnight park.
Why didn't I put on the clothes?
Who the hell knows.
-
Author:
Eugene S. (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 4th, 2023 18:38
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 18
Offline)
Comments2
I'm really glad I read this outloud. My poems never seem as good written to me, they come across better on my podcast in spoken word. This poems flow is fantastic when spoken (and when read). Would be great to hear read out by the writer the way it was meant to be read.
I may get brave enough to read them to someone besides myself one day. Thank you for the comment and for reading.
I like it 👍🏼
Thank you for reading!
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