image by mary kling
“The gloaming has begun. We’re in the darkness, & we
know this has happened before.”--Thom Yorke.
OK, this happened--I’m sitting here staring at a body of water
that is moving. Is it a river, a bay, the Sound, or the ocean? It
seems familiar. Have I been here before? I seemed to know
the way. It is not frightening.
Why am I all dressed up? A nice gray flannel suit, just like
Gregory Peck. Oh, that’s hilarious, I can remember that movie
but I don’t know my own name. Hell, it will be my luck that
my name will be stupid anyway, like Archiebald, Horatio, Dudley,
Efrem or Elmer. What day is this? Have I just come from church
like a lost lamb? Or am I a minister? No, I swear too much to be
a decent holy man. That’s it, I’m a defrocked priest, slumming at
some Protestant church, with three wise wives in three different
cities, telling them all that I’m a traveling bible salesman, when
actually I work undercover for the government, probably the CDA.
I’m really hungry. I can see it’s late afternoon or early evening. When
did I eat last? Do I have a wallet with cash & ID in it? No, my pockets
are empty. I have strong hands with rope-like veins, but smooth palms,
no callouses--maybe an artist, writer, business or con-man?
If someone comes along should I ask them if they know me? Am I
a dangerous man? Have I hurt people? Do I have children or grand-
children? I see a wedding ring, but I have no recall of a wife. Am I
Why am I weeping? I don’t see any blood, or feel any pain--yet, for
Christ’s sake, I can’t quit crying. If I don’t stop pretty soon, someone
will notice & start asking me questions--but hell, then again, I might
get something to eat, or get to go for a ride somewhere.
Lost in the gloaming,
gray ash falling tenderly;no light to guide you.
Posted over on dVerse Poets Pub "Haibun Monday"