The parade goes on with me in the middle of it, making me
wonder if she’s in the midst of a parade wherever she is, this time and place
where we both reside, just not side by side, she, perhaps, seeing no reason to
toot her own horn or wave her flags, having passed on from all that while I
still linger in it, I search the crowd for a sign of her face, knowing it won’t
be there, and I wish she would strut her stuff in my parade so I could stand on
the sidelines and cheer, yet, not quite aware of what either of us has to cheer
about, unless it is our ability to survive, to have made the next day or week
or month or year, relatively unscathed, even if what we wanted we could not
have, the dreams we still have yet have no want to make come true, and so, we
celebrate the least bit of success, the beathing in and out and the promise we
will for the foreseeable future.
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