shadows.

there are these
shadows
walking our streets.
they look like people. they act like them too.
but they are really stories caught inside a body.
the story is running their lives. determine every step.
what they say. how they sleep.
i am talking about this man.
he has grey hair. he wears glasses.
his walk is a little shaky. i saw him at the gas station today.
he addressed another person who was getting gas. he said:
i know that place you are coming from. i was there during
imprisoning. during the war. i will never forget that.
the car plates here in germany tells you what town the person owning the car is from. he remembered.
the man he talked to just stood. smiled. didn't know what to say.
the man walked to his car repeating. i will never forget that. or maybe
that was just echoing in my head. i watched him as he walked to his car.
the story in each move. moving him. moving on. forward. not back.
my mother knew him. his wife died just recently. how must it be like to have
lost your loved one. the one that connected you to your past.
how must it be like to live in this changed world. where people don't know how
to react when the story does spill forth.
how must it have been like. back then. in prison. i will never forget that.
does he dream about it. does it haunt him.
all i saw was his shadow. the skin around this story. his walk back to the car.
using the remote key to open it. one hand in his right pocket.
i will never forget that walk.