The Jagged Pieces

  

The Jagged Pieces




A man I used to know

in his sharp brown suit, trench coat, carrying his leather briefcase

unchains his bicycle from the light post

to make his way home



The man in the office next to me

died suddenly

a week before his

retirement



On the radio Skynard sings

Tuesday’s gone with the wind



A man in the parking garage

whistles happily

too loud

some classical piece

like a freaking bird

two flights down

still hear him



The job I’m going to

is going away



As I walk along the bridge

where desperate people

throw themselves into the

cold murky green water

I see a small long-beaked bird

sitting on a branch

pecking for some food



And I think

Why and what for?

How do the jagged pieces

of the puzzle

all fit together

or do they?

Mitchell Waldman

Mitchell Waldman's fiction, poetry, and essays have appeared in numerous publications, including Fictive Dream, The Waterhouse Review, Crack the Spine, The Houston Literary Review, The Faircloth Review, Epiphany, Wilderness House Literary Magazine, The Battered Suitcase, and many other magazines and anthologies. He is also the author of the novel, A Face in the Moon, and the story collection, Petty Offenses and Crimes of the Heart (Wind Publications), and serves as Fiction Editor for Blue Lake Review. (For more info, see his website at http://mitchwaldman.homestead.com).