Milton Lives Inside Of Me

Milton at the shop counter, 

Buying egg rolls for his lunch, 

Milton on the street corner, 

Walking low with that familiar hunch, 

Milton on the bench, 

Right outside my apartment’s door, 

All day all I can see is Milton, 

No-one else, 

Nothing more.

Just the memory of him, 

Intangible as when he died, 

Cold and unresponsive on his hospital bed, 

Now he walks,

And he is mobile,

And on the other side, 

Of my mind.

The difficult side that has no rules, 

Nor ways and means in which to talk

His presence always is an impediment.

Not a happy one, 

To have around,

This spectre. 


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