Walking Men in the Midst, poem, steven humphreys
Spiritual

Walking Men in the Midst

Woke up with a hangover.

had a $50 ticket clenched in my hand.

bottle of booze still in the other.

my bus ride to oblivion.

the dart hit the map on the wall.

never heard of the place.

it’s a phone book under the lamp.

one way guy in a two lane highway.

going faster than a crow chewing

on a southern drawl.

I see yellow, I see green.

I see darkness I’ve never

seen.

I done see little power

baby talk baby

never me.

back of the bus I sit

that’s me.

two glowing eyes

following driving that

1959 Cadillac

hearse

behind me.

it’s the vampire coming

to save my soul.

how do I know?

he told me so in that wire

that connects from his brain

to mine.

you know,

that invisible wire…

oh, its there.

it has been 500 days

since I listened to Lycia’s

We all

‘fall down in the sun’.

A trail of monks and leaf less

trees by a church

do run.

those afraid are identified.

those

freed are

terrified.

it’s the walking men

in the midst.

like me,

they’re done.

 

 

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