The Second Act

I can hear my neighbors but I cannot understand them. I can pick out familiar smells blending with ones I can’t name and still, I want. I crave. I hunger and harbor jealousy and desire from going over my own Cliffs of Dover, down into the ocean with those boulders carefully woven into me.

I get lost in thought. Stupidly self-aware, putridly proud and ignorant but honorably polite and articulate I mope around, looking for another dead horse to carry around. But I find none. More than ever I see a yellow brick road before me and I’m in this holding phase, trying my shoes and steadying myself, readying myself.

I can hear the birds but I cannot understand them. I can pick out familiar chirps chiming with the new and still, I savor.