To The Corner Of George And James Poem by Dakota Ellerton

He walked along side me, like a shadow refelcted to the sidewalk, almost still in motion. I watched as he’d pulled out a cigarette, his hands worn and colored from the bitter frost breeze.

He raised this simplicity to his parted chapped lips and withered face, as he brought a flame to the blunt ended magic stick. I couldn’t help but stare in curiousity, as I felt the soles of my feet insync with his against the cold pavement.

I studied his life in a moment not too easily replaced, as he swayed to a vague exhistence, carrying himself down the street.

A man too lost, consumed by bitterness, with loneliness on the tip of his tongue. To speak, and be spoken to almost seemed inevitable, but unreal. If I could’ve reached out to this man, a passer-by wrapped in my own dementia, a skitsofrantic solider in a system of the damned, who am I to beg forgiveness and acceptance from a creature too unnoticed and appreciated, in a world driven by heartless madness and fool tongue to speak of such a foul lie time and time again, with mothers too diluted to admit the powder on their nose, and husbands with nine to five commitments who own a never ending supply of black suits, who cheat on their wives to destroy mentality, and sentimental values of life and love.

In a truth too bold and inquired, I rubbed my hands together, as I paced myself along side a stranger, almost too closley his shadow on the parallel sidewalk.