grey – an elegy

Disregarded

like the ash of my cigarette

or all the uninhabited bodies

and burnt buildings.

The sidewalk,

the parking lot,

the overlooked streets

seem shy or quiet.

Neutral like Switzerland

or the boring wardrobes

of Corporate America.

The unconventional

Wedding tuxedos

Not one extreme

or the other.

On the fence,

Never alive, no.

Not ever loud or bright

or anything other than matter.

Like shadows stuck to the backs

of those who dwell

in the sunlight.

Looming dark and ominous,

mysterious, like storm clouds

and walls of rain.

Thick like fog

so solid and lacking

all the bite of lightning

Temporary

like pencil sketches

on overcast days

outlines and first drafts

and fleeting like memories

in old photographs

and the smoke

from my cigarette.