By Lois Hard
Standing on the curb, I watch the procession
as the world marches by with their flutes
and suits made of crackling armor,
drums beating to a tune that I can’t see,
muted clowns riding indiscernible cars,
floats waving their streamers for all to taste
except for me
because… I’m invisible.
Leaning in a crowd, I can barely make out the faces.
They seem miles away, staring past me
at an organist playing for a monkey
who dances for lira, or anything he desires,
so long as the music doesn’t stop.
The jack-in-the-box jabbering of the organ grinder
mesmerizes the crowd with its rock of ages,
but not for me
because… I’m invisible.
Marching down the street, a uniformed band
plays a familiar song, but I can’t remember
where I heard it. Tubas hoot with a mystery that
perplexes, and trombones slide out of the way.
As the drums approach, the clickety-clack of the sticks
are like snake charmers’ flutes.
My neck swims toward the cacophony,
my lashes blink in confusion,
my mouth waters with longing
until the sound dissipates to that of a bubbling stream.
As the parade disappears in the distance,
I’m left standing all alone
because… I’m insignificant.
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU Student