Tomorrow Perhaps

Tomorrow Perhaps

i was walking down the street

where 1,000 gallons of Petrol

is burned every second

people sauntering, commingling

attempting to fill and occupy their lives

with something

anything

like

conversations

interactions

discoveries

and new encounters

yet the day is the same

as the one before

and perhaps

the one to come

some of us have forgotten

the sum of who we are

does any one care about the portrait

the painter

the frame

the canvass

with living vivid colors ?

a man walked up to me

made a common city gesture

putting his slightly spread

index and middle fingers

to his lips . . .

no, he was not blowing me a kiss

but this is what i thought

that he was asking for a cigarette

yet, all he wanted

was a light

all right . . . alright

my fear and my tightly bound selfishness

reacted

for that simple 2 fingered action

spawned my reaction,

for this enactment of process

had become my truth . . .

but all he wanted was a light

as i turned the corner on Broadway

life abundant met me

my vision

my consciousness

in a broad way

who could possibly sleep through this

yet still

so many were

sleepwalking

talking to each other

and to themselves

stuck in their dreams

and dreamless days

their ways of coping

some hoping

that the self doping would alleviate

them from being lost

and delegate to them a path

many not . . . perhaps

and perhaps the voices we hear

i hear

may be laced with fear

and doubts

and bouts with self

but i suspect, i doubt

that life is simplistically more complex

in the bowels of my own vexations

i saw nor felt the liberation

i vie for

and though i may say “Die For”

i am living for

and opportunity

to cry for help

yelping like a dog inside

from the place i hide

i too am a vagrant wanderer

clawing, holding on

to the visceral strings of my wonder

playing tunes

along with my self created

orchestrated

symphonies

so while something spiritual in me

resonates with what was about me

the ambiance embraced me

and began to speak to me

loudly

and

now i want to hold on

i pulled out my camera

and began to take pictures

of the busy-ness

to make the assist

in my endeavor to record

the accord

of life

i wonder do they see me

as the oddity

the oddity of a color unique

within this creative expressive painting

of one portrait of life

i see them . . . i see me

there were the vendors of the streets

the lenders quite replete

all giving, offering an option

to barter away their prizes

for yours

and of course

many took the bait

and though some may appear to be

in disdain

at the fleeting joys

the enduring pain

and all the inane, insane

twain the two

i see life evolving

devolving

unto it’s self

while we are attempting

the solving of equations

to the situations

we encounter

or not

some are dormant and waiting for sunshine

some shedding their hulls

to rise above the furrows

and perhaps it may not come today

but there is always

tomorrow . . .  perhaps

© 2 February 2012 : William S. Peters, Sr.