Sitting Here?

I sit on this hardened gold Elevated by hollow steel. Leaning against the wooden slab With my feet against brown metal. My eyes are blurred with the words on the page, The brown frosty Book I hold, Words race to my mind as verse fills my soul I am sitting here. The hall is bathed with light, Above, snowy tubes, charge ions and milk The alabaster walls around me smile with the offering, Yet unknowingly unhappy to be seen. From yonder the silence breaks A voice... No. two enter the hall. Children playing at the end of this cold night Approaching me with their song. I am sitting here The play grows and grows, Seemingly closer and closer. Until it mutates into the monster in my mind. It is on top of me now, The laughing, the children, The gentle mocking that children often do. Yet as I look from my frost I see nothing. Traces of fear enter thought As my mind trips into conclusion. I hear what I hear Yet not here, do I see. I am sitting here. The calm is broken again as the doors behind me leap forward My mind jumps, as if to show arrival of potential escorts. Yet they just walk on, joyous in their chiding and speech. Obviously creating the racket of sound. My minds calms then as I smiled as they walk past. But they do not smile back. They do not frown, nor hesitate, or return my greetings. A signal of the being I am. Single boy, sitting at a table Reading a book on poetry. Am I sitting here? Written March 3rd, 2002 © on Apr 06 2002 05:11 PM PST   18 • 0 • 1