Patrick Higgins: Walk

Walk


I went for a walk
I didn't want to
He made me
damned gym teachers
think they're so important
miss a day
one day
You'll have to make that up son
on my own time
Unsupervised
not sure why I made it this far but
Here I am
walking down the dusty driveway
supposed to be jogging
Typical London, Colorado day
gray sky, brown landscape
speckled with sage
not in bloom
Didn't know where I was going
turned left after crossing the street
no worries about cars
not out here
I heard a familiar sound
animals in cages came to mind
I knew old Cramer had some peacocks
and I knew Cramer died yesterday
I looked for the walking rainbows
but only saw Cramer's beautiful old house
tall next to the trailers on my street
Under gray light from a gray sky
his Roman porch pillars weren't white
nor the gingerbread trim
Then I noticed their parade
coming from behind the house
Single file
the leader cried
the Peacock cry
animals in cages didn't come to mind
I didn't know what they were doing
Then I saw him
huddled in the corner
where the stairs met the cellar door
Quivering
smaller than the rest
I held him
Saw in his eyes
an old man face down
on the kitchen floor
licking the tile
This beautiful creature knew
with innocent intuition
He saw in my eyes
a man lying face up
gun by his feet
hole in his chest
staining the carpet
striped white through the crib's bars
I knew this peacock.
I put him down and he cried
I cried too
but continued my rebel's jog
For a good half mile I could hear
the incessant crying of the peacocks
A dirt road branched to the right
switch-backed up a hill
by some adobe cliffs
always wondered where it went
Didn't find out
not that day anyway
looked like work
That would be giving in
I'm not sure when
the peacocks stopped crying
I couldn't hear them as I approached
a small rickety trailer home
white paint snowflakes collecting
around green fiberglass skirting
poorly tied down with bailing twine
flapping in the wind
Suddenly the door flung open
a boy of about ten ran out
didn't close the door
it flapped too
He ran past the plastic forks
members of the yard's garbage ensemble
His mother came to the screen door
She closed it.
Then yelled at him
He went to the road
and walked the wrong way
Toward me.
He had my blonde hair, wiry frame, and dirty clothes
my independence too
All the time his mother was yelling
the mother who wouldn't come out
from behind her screen door
When we passed we looked at the road's cracks
Said nothing
It's not my nature
Looking up, I saw
I was now chasing the sun
Again.
That taunting bastard
funnels my fascination
and the cloud's colors
then selfishly drags them
beyond the horizon
before I can catch him
Perhaps if I ran...
my gym teacher would like that.
I'd rather go slow
Maybe try something clever one day
like a lasso or a net
I went home and slept
Dreamt of my memories
and woke in my future.