the transient

alas, what age was it when s/he

woke up in the morning &

looked back into the mirror to find out

that all s/he’d been told by mother

was in fact, a big whopping lie?

suddenly,

all that had been

comfortable

was no longer

certain &

that even the getting up from a deep

slumber in the morning

was all but a temporary &

fleeting

state of being---

that change would come

whether s/he liked it or not,

quicker than s/he would like when s/he

wanted it slow &

it would take f*****g forever when s/he

wanted it quick---

this notion smacked him/her in the head

as the proverbial “ton of bricks,”

leaving a sense of emptiness which

s/he’d never felt before &

which s/he had a good feeling,

s/he’d never be able to get rid of---

when s/he walked outside

the transient saw all the looks in the

faces of all those walking round

him/her & wondered

just how many of them had stumbled upon

this reality &

just how many were still floating in

whatever version of the lie they’d been

fed---

then the flood of conclusions was unleashed

ripping & tearing up the rocks, sticks &

plants down the mountain trail of his/her

psyche---

just how much of this change could s/he

handle?  just how much stress would it

cause?  just who would s/he turn to, when

everyone else was going through the same

s**t & it was all completely

meaningless anyway &

how much of it all was s/he directly

responsible to or for,

in the whole of it?

this

had been a virginity

that s/he truly never wanted to lose &

now it was gone,

with an immeasurable amount of time

left with his/her heart beating

to endure the intervals

between the next calamity &

the next moment of personal chaos

which would toss him/her all up in a

tizzy,

once again.