John-Ward Leighton

FULL GRAY

Photo ©Copyright 2010 by John-Ward LeightonNo sun today
to drive the blues away.
My muse is tight against the wall
and this poem is headed for a fall.
No pictures grace my brain
and the day is threatening to rain.
Where do I go
when all the answers are no?

A young man in dirty hippy clothes
came up to me spouting gibberish
I thought is he talking to me
‘cause what he was saying was not my dish of tea?
He followed me down the street
while I tried to hide behind darkened glasses
my face set to ignore
but it seemed to drive him on
and instead of less I only got more.

Stopping at an intersection
he found a new victim
and wandered off talking
in a new direction.
I caught my breath
having almost run to get away from him
and his frankly unwanted insane attention.

Then I thought
why didn’t I acknowledge his existence?
It was like a mosquito in the night
one that leaves him unprepared
for a day in the almost light
in the twilight of hope
and the bogus promise of his next hit of dope,
this day will never get brighter than
full gray.