Being Here, Now.

he opened his heart

and out flew a vulture.

clawing on rotten flesh,

breaking white bones

and screeching for its

brothers with their hungry

mouths.

slowly,

methodically,

answering

the call,

poking their bald heads

out of carnivorous hearts.

cautiously scanning the alien air,

unfamiliar with freedom or

maybe the new and joyful

sound of ripping

heart.

there is a flock of

famished vultures

amidst us.

walking on two legs,

flying with leaden wings.

darkening the sky as they walk,

as they eat, as they dream,

as they make love;

not minding the roaches

under their own beds.