The Companionship of Impulses

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I miss walking barefoot
On a rolling tide of meadow grass
Like Jesus himself strutting high atop one very green Galilee

I miss promenading
Like Chaplin past
the silent cyclorama of Eastside shops

I miss being swept off my feet
By that temptress, pizza , 
whose seductive fragrance leads me directly into the arms of Ray.

I miss greeting well-groomed dogs like returning war heroes and thanking them for their service.

I miss the currency exchange of
A seconds-long smile with a passing, impossibly pretty girl.

I miss the meditative stroll
Through the cornfield maze of a bookstore
In search of meaning
Or for someone who simply understands me.

But most of all I miss
the companionship of impulses
Which, in normal times,
send me on adventures of enlightenment
In towering cathedrals and skyscrapers
Even though I have secretly known
Ever since I was a little boy,
that they are really recovery missions
In search of the remains of my long ago broken heart
which to this day is still very much afraid of the dark.

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