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. 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s