The Whistling Man

Nobody knows what I did

just five minutes ago and now

I walk down the street

and nobody knows

 

ahead of me a well-dressed couple walk

he, talking too much, she

aloof and disinterested

I know how that ends

 

a homeless man sleeps in the doorway of a derelict building

I wonder if the homeless dream

maybe he is not asleep at all

 

cars pass by driving to and driving from

a policeman stops me

“Sir, you have some blood on your shirt…”

I reassure him, “a nosebleed, I am fine”

he smiles, I smile

and on and on I walk

 

I am invincible, almost invisible, just this morning I

was God, and, still I feel that fury move

up and move down me

 

while I wait for the elderly lady to give me my change

a cat snakes around and through my legs

“he likes you”

“he has very poor taste!”

she laughs, I laugh, we laugh

she has no idea

 

I keep walking, I do not think I will ever get tired

it is as if I am breathing in raw ozone

I think I can smell the electricity coming from within me

I hear someone whistling and it takes me a moment to realise

that it is me, and people smile

 

they are not afraid, not of the whistling man

they do not know

nobody knows

like Jesus, and Lucifer, I walk among them

nobody knows what I have done and

bluebirds turn and fly into the sun