A sad parade of the grim and guarded
March in front of me
Looking slightly haunted
Carefully unwanted
Starchpressed into body armor
Favored by suburban matrons
Repressed fear of affection
Glittering in tense faced glimmers of quiet lives
Holding tight to lapdogs and convention
Caught up in bland expectations of pop culture happiness
Not realizing that satisfaction requires passion
Forgetting that passion exists or even could
Risk free grazers at a wilted salad bar
I wonder why they are here
Pushed and pulled
Dragged kicking and screaming
Perhaps
Or has the emptiness of their conformity
Left them hollow
Eggshell thin, cracking
Looking for moments barely remembered like
Untethered gallops in the moonlight
So I gather my passion
And repack my curiosity
For another time
Long away and long gone
From me
David Trudel © 2012
createdavidt 
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