Death 666

I saw you standing at the ATM this morning
(you had your hat pulled down over your ears)
and you were draining your blood
from your already drained life
white finger tips, gripping the key pad in an attempt to stay there,
trying to hang on to the source of so much agony.

I wanted to touch you, reach for your shoulder
Cradle you in my arms.

But I was afraid of making you feel weak.

And as I was getting ready to walk away,
(not wanting you to see me)
you turned around suddenly
and walked right through me.

You didn't even realize I was there.
We should have bumped.
Crashed.
But we didn't.

And then it hit me.
One of us must not be here.
Or not real.

Or dead.

I'm thinking how likely it is that I am the dead one.
walking around believing this is all happening.

I slid down the wall, slumped to the ground like a chalk outline at a murder scene.

I’m feeling all the more like a posed mannequin at the mall
Arms twisted
Face turned in an awkward position,
Neck cramped.
Smile fixed.
Plastic heart.

Dead eyes.

I watch you as you walk away,

and as you fade into the smoke of a passing car,
I hope you realize
this isn't about you.