Poem – MEET THE MADNESS (By John Grey)
MEET THE MADNESS
A Providence twilight, late November,
every man and woman dressed in gray,
sliding in and out of panels
or emerging from dark recesses,
all faces plain, hair drab, eyes shut,
and there, high up in the skyscrapers,
mouths in windows pause mid-shriek,
as, down by the riverside,
water rats crack on scattered bones
and snakes slither about freely.
It is a situation only complex on the outside
for, within me, as simple
as putting in an appearance,
is all that makes it happen
in the first place.
I acknowledge my mistake by living
where I have always been mistaken.