Cloud Hunting

My hand shakes as it reaches for the knob
The metal is hard and cold
After years I close the door.
I close the door on that which haunts me;
I close the door on that which hunts me.
And from behind the door I hear
laughter from the man who taunts me.

And why not?
I am more than willing,
I am a victim waiting,
a vampire's delight.

I can never remember being a victim
when I am out chasing clouds,
chasing clouds with my mind
In a summer sky of blue and white
there are too many shapes to find.

Sometimes it all comes back to me
when I am out cloud-chasing
-- the laughter and the pain--
when I see shapes in the clouds
when I see a certain shape,
the shape of the one whose past I am facing.

Now I am older, maybe wiser;
and I seldom see the shapes that shape my life
when I am hunting clouds with my mind.
And that certain shape hardly ever comes around
Except on summer nights when storms rage and winds howl
and rain fall hard on the ground.

4.16.1998