spectacle

I am reduced now.
A creature of grief, bound together by duty
and scotch-tape
edges chafe against each other
like fault lines
rock against rock
fighting for the surface to
see their deadly faces.
The edges are faded
Vibrancy reduced to sepia tones
don’t take that tone with me
you’re gonna shake a pebble loose.
It all comes crashing down.
You observe from afar,
reclined in a gas station fold-out chair
cheap beer in hand
indifference and awe
intermittently plastered across your face
depending on who glances over.
I glance, no I stare,
But you neither avert your eyes nor look at mine,
You look past me