::04:11:08::

::: Crazy Narcissus :::

There was nothing stopping him from walking,
walking past the rangers booth and bathrooms,
past the tourists with cameras and backpacks,
and the trail markers with signs painted black.

All he could do was walk and weep - weep.
Until he fell to his knees by the mossy creek
to stare at his reflection. Pleased, he screamed.
He was in love with the pain that streamed.

He reveled in the attention he received.
He felt inspired by the ranger looking concerned,
the tourists pulling back their cameras,
the clinching of kids, and zippy backpacks.

Evidently, his homelessness gave him great joy.
The anger and confusion was just a ploy.

Written by: ~ Dean Walker