A hard truth struck him
early one morning
and he couldn’t shake it free

so he reached for it
with grubby hands
and put it in his filthy memory. 

Couldn’t quite decide
what to do with it
once he had it in his grasp.

Figured
that knowledge would come
in time.  Until then

he’d hold it tightly
there, right on his chest.
He whispered, “spot on,”

which he had never said before.
A slightly foreign phrase, maybe
obsolete outside the country

where it had started?
Couldn’t say and indeed,
wouldn’t.  Let them

figure it all out.
Let them figure it out
and then let him know.

Meanwhile,
people all around paid him
no mind, went on

with their days, weeks,
months as if nothing had happened.
In their vision, nothing had.

All around people
tightened their grip
on the trivial, the unimportant.

He wanted to plead with them,
“NO! You must see this!  You must
feel this as I do!” 

He was so certain of it
mattering more than they did
but they kept on about their business.

It’s how he ended.
Unremarked, kicked to the side
of the road. 

Their world mattered more
to them; not much of a surprise.
He fell off.  They went on. Spot on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T