He knew.
He knew this would happen.
He knew I’d look for him.
He knew I’d give up.

Did he know that would piss me off;
That, that would be the drive
That would keep me searching
These dimly lit roads
Flash luminescent memories
In passing highway posts;
That I would turn right at
The next fork in the road,
Past the blaring yellow caution sign
He merrily rote
To ward the weary
From nebulated cliffs,
While used
To draw in marauder’s
Just like Tom.

What does his map
Of the human condition

Is it knowledge?
Was it coincidence?

How did he know.




He stood
Under a street light
She passed by
Glanced in his direction
And looked away.
He spoke
But she had not been listening
She did not care
About what this stranger
Had to say.

After some time
She spotted the same man
On a different path
Under a street light
That illuminated his existence
She stared at his marbled face
He spoke
She strained
To listen
But missed it
As the wind blew
His existence
Into the abyss.

She often wondered
If he had been speaking to her
If he had been trying to gain her attention.