Sad Parade

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

 

 

 

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