THE LADDER

I walk down a crowded street and

I push past signs

telling me to watch for ladders.

I never the less proceed.

I trail behind

A parade of people

because I am easily distracted.

My brain searches and seizes,

but retrieval refused to play its part.

Concentration is minimal.

I stand gaunt, unaware of the time I purloined.

I journey through the self-induced maze

of a parade

but all I encounter are ladders.

My choice.

Up or down.

I look up.

I look down.

My jeans lacerate me.

My legs won’t budge.

I stand idle.

An introvert who tries feverishly

to cross the threshold and climb.

But my individuality is unruly.

The ladders suddenly shake violently

for several seconds.

Their offspring being produced

hatched, to match

much needed circumstance.

A scenario appears.

A long intersection comes into view.

Roads, streets, lights…

but with ladders as the guides.

But to where?

I reach out to try to climb one.

It is hot,

damn hot.

I succumb to its intense burn.

I touch another.

It is cold,

damn cold.

Frostbite occurs.

One hand is burned

and the other hand is frost bitten.

I continue down the lane unabated.

I risk all

by touching another ladder.

I grasp it with both hands

and I marvel at the ladder’s

willingness to allow me on.

A choice must be made.

I decide to ascend.

Distorted pictures of ancient memories

are carried up in mid-air,

only to dredge up

long forgotten questions.

There were answers,

but none that I chose.

I proceed upward

arbitrarily and reluctantly,

recalling names, faces and dates.

I halt at a stop sign

that a ladder is holding.

It has a badge.

It doesn’t appear placid.

It claims that in order to continue

I must pass a test.

A crucial test.

I am dubious.

Uncertainty produces fear

and it’s the fear I fear,

not the test.

It’s all-engrossing.

The ladder emanates authority,

something I sometimes question.

Subsiding my terror,

I push past this abrasive ladder

with contempt.

The badge ladder looked at me sternly

and started to cry,

spilling splinters around its perimeter.

It falls back and mutters words

I’ll never hear.

I continue upward, mobile in my pursuit

of linkage to something.

An adherence that

leads to self expression

and self govern.
I come to the end of the steps.

I peer down through the mist and

I see my reflection in a mirror

that drifts lazily by.

I have turned into a ladder.

I hurry up and jump

off the ladder that I was on.

It becomes difficult to walk,

instead I straddle.

I see through tiny cracks

in the wood.

I see a fellow walking towards me.

I try to yell.

I try to warn him away.

He doesn’t listen.

Or can he even hear me?

I am a ladder.

Behind him and the haze

I see a parade of people.

But I realize to late.

It’s all a charade.

The poor fool.

He comes closer.

And I know without looking

who that person is

that comes toward me.

It is I.

I chose the same path.

Again.