Seeing Things

Out on the porch landing,
My eyes reached towards
traffic,
windows, and cemented pits of water.
Laura talked about pessimism
as my mind swept up the light -
so pessimism became large and gray
and soft and damp
and it nibbled into the cracks of
street one crossing street two crossing
nerves and winks and
washed out synapses.
It fell through these hard things,
past minutes and sleep sighs and
onto yesterday, onto the moment
I believed that all
would be like the pointing hand -
moving - but only in
side side
tick
rounds.

I saw her and I saw the need and I
promised to her that I would pray.
In the moment my eyes stepped past these
frames, in between one stop
and the next, they grasped a shadow
that immediately slipped away
but in such a manner that it
moved past and through the human
face and neck and bust
and then left - to the next or
to the nothing.

I felt dis eased,
for I saw and knew
that I could not dwell on it
And I could not allow for that
one swing movement
to overtake the settled, rising mist.