I saw him again today.

He shows up once in a full moon.

He hangs over me even from such a distance,

Staring with blind eyes made of lacrimal glass.

Sometimes he follows me

As if he were my shadow.

He shuffles behind me in his lyric covered Vans,

The tag still hanging from the shoelace.

Once in awhile I see him,

Sitting motionless, expressionless.

I feel him climb to my shoulders

And without words I must carry him.

He makes gravity weigh down on those that obey it

But they either don't care or have breathed heavier air

And when I see him standing across the bridge in Pasadena,

I see myself falling there instead.