Lemming

Step, Step,
Wind among gray hairs,
Coldly setting sun upon them,
Step, Step,
Trenchcoat closed, eyes down,
ember-lit cigarette,
Step, Step,

Whisper:
"Do men's hands exist if they
are forever hidden in pockets?"

Step, step,
grizzled visage turns,
Step, Step,
Stop.

Ocean reflected in his gaze,
No tear, no song, no cry.
Eyes down again,
to pay allegiance
to the pavement.

Step, step,
step, step...
(dies away)