By: D.S. Randol
Reconciling
with the little rhino-eyed
boy / snoring after sniffling
sitting just behind me
/ who /
didn't say -- a word / didn't say -- a word /
sitting in the hospital lobby
red seats
sitcom's / bass line above us
I'd have bum - p - ed /
my apple -- two scalps / creation -- a pyramid
the baseline of a temple
holding the same thought
he and I, "Ouch!" an understanding
woken from my slumber, woken from his sleep
Dormant --
where before, I've been there
-- allergies
blond buzzcut to a wooded / door /
pushing up his glasses
harboring heavy grey thoughts
sniffing all the way
maybe I'd have done the same
walking through a mirror
endangered spirit
for his introspec
tive
eyes
D.S. Randol is driven by poetry and the concepts of energy and passion. He is currently a resident of Maryland but is most familiar with the wetlands of Louisiana.
"So y'know when you see a little kid out and about? And it's like, a momentary revelation that "Oh dANG that little snotnose is the FUTURE! "They'll learn much more than I'll ever know," right? Then I think very rarely, you feel something different. You look at a kid, and you feel some sort of connection... It's impossible to know and merely a glorified assumption, but you see a kid, and you see your past self. You sense a kindred spirit. He sat in the chair behind mine--back-to-back. I thought, if only I could forge some sort of connection! If only I could even just bump the back of my head on his, that mutual small shock would be just that: mutual! A connection, a jolt, as if that would make everything clear. I'm a quiet person generally. I had crazy childhood allergies. This kid was quiet, and was constantly sniffing up... But... man, sometimes it just feels MORE than that. I think it's something everyone must feel, right? To see someone on the street, and to think, "I wish I could know you."