You’d think it was the hungry belly food I miss most.
Or the glass of water.
Ice-clinking tall glass of water next to my bed.
Not gonna happen in the swirls of the incandescent orange night wind blowing fits and starts beneath the rumbling roar traffic zooming past on he highway above.
While I am huddled close down here.
Grabbing moments of sleep as if they were diamonds.
You’d think it was the hunger.
But I ate yesterday.
In the basement of the church.
And that’s enough.
What I miss is feeling useful.
Useful.
Like I matter
Yesterday I helped unload the truck.
Cardboard smells carrying carrots and bruised apples.
Just for a moment I was helping.
And it tasted even warmer than the creamed chicken and rice.
Didn’t even need the hot sauce,
To help me taste again a memory
That I am alive.
And yes there once was a lush life.
When a week in Paris, could ease the pain of it.
Or even just a weekend.
A time to take a break from being useful.
Monday through Friday.
Nine to five.
Before she left,
And the days became empty, random winds,
I think I might have been a teacher.
There were smiles and eyes that lit up like brilliant rainbows,
Spectacular light shouting, “I get what you are saying, something is different now, something has shifted here.”
Back when I was useful.
There wasn’t one special moment that it stopped.
Like her hand on the door knob moment when she said,
“I wished it could have been different.”
There was instead a gradual slip sliding
Walking up hill on ice
Looking for the next safe bridge
Where I could hide and try sleep again
Once I was useful
And I miss that most of all.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0izjSUqCcSQ]