Origin
Andrew Tran
I saw him while he walked down uneven concrete
He had a beat to his step, every move on count
Avoided slanted ladders and weird slinking cats
Steel noose hung from his neck that resembled a cross
It dangled like an unsteady decoration
He had a long stride, and I was on par with pace
Walked close, but there was a wide gap in our bridge
Some Northwest wind pushed us with cold shoulders
It carried the burning of a forest cremation
Evergreen trees torched, leaves fall to the ground mourning
He enjoyed the smoke’s company, didn’t wave her off
But she left as he heard sounds from American horns
He bobbed his head to the sermons preached by beggars
Ran from synchronized fireworks
Puzzled at the visual art from strobe light projectors
Coming from the windows at a house party
Treaded his fingers on the chipped skin of row houses
His expression was content like the heart of a book
His rehearsed smile fell with the collapse of eyelids
I became aware that something was weighing his walk
Opaque bottles barely stood straight in his coat pockets
Staggered after each other like rows of dominos
Bottles fractured the cement causing cracked ripples
Wiping shards off his brow I saw myself on the ground
And I realized I couldn’t remove the glass so easily
Because what was there belonged from the beginning
Andrew Tran is a writer from Virginia.