Sidewalks: the clutter of movements simplified on pavements
of time where strangers become familiar
stories and friendly smiles become hidden identities
behind masks of emotion. In their eyes are the elemental
fragments of history as each leaves a footprint
of external existence. On curbs
there is a persistence of connection in the way they
communicate in the universal language
of silence. I watch them as they travel
in different directions; each an enigma to be studied
and imagined. A man with schizophrenia walks
past a young girl barely fifteen years of age. She looks scared
but pretends to not notice as he shouts
at traffic. He seems to be threatened by their stares
and shows his anger because he hears the internal
voice of laughter and through his vision no one seems to care.
He throws down a cigarette and smashes it intensely
with his left foot and stomps as he fades around the corner.
The girl seems relieved as she slightly coughs
on the leftover smoke of a mental illness.
In all realness she is glad but yet sad that this man
explores life with empty eyes. She walks past the window
of my observation. As she disappears into the distance
I can see a conversation in her motion;
she is telling me she has some place to be
but she seems lost in a world that has yet to learn
her name. I can still see her footprint
barely as the dust from her worn down sneakers
leaves a mark next to the cigarette butt picked up
by an older gentleman dressed to impressed
and very annoyed by this evidence of pollution. His gray
hair shines brilliantly with the shine of the sun
as each wrinkle in his face describes him
as history. I have seen three people find connection
on these sidewalks; each brought together by different
fates of life; travelers searching unknowingly
to be seen and waiting for the footprints
of their stories to be read.
© 2012
Tarringo T. Vaughan
