Not Today Ferryman
By Justin Karcher
Near the end of our walk, two ex-lovers
are catching up in an airport terminal
but no airplanes are taking off
they mention Anna Karenina
how impulsive passion is when it’s always trapped
behind glass and despite wanting to break through
you know deep down that it’ll probably lead to tragedy
so you throw out the one phone number
that might actually make you happy
as the lovers part and we applaud, I notice the guy
that’s been circling around Shea’s 710 on his bike
looks a lot like Tim Burton with a worrying look on his face
and I don’t blame him: the Buffalo Theater District transformed
after months of lockdown and tumbleweed, live theater’s back
mini-plays presented behind storefront windows, the audience
wearing headphones with a direct connection to the hidden
secrets of other people’s voices, how dealing with grief is different
for everyone, and I can’t help but think about Tim Burton movies
how they’re all fantastical to some degree, misfits and lonely souls
looking for that sense of community, somewhere to belong
and tonight we’re all trying to come out of our shells again
reacquainting ourselves with the city we call home, the concrete holes
where food trucks used to be or the air pockets once home to so many
sweet nothings, how tonight we are falling in love again with Buffalo
all her stories, how every day it seems we have to convince ourselves
we’re not living in Purgatory or that at a moment’s notice
we’re ready to shed our wallpaper skin and reveal our cracks
because we’ve never been too good at hiding our breakdowns no matter
how hard we try, but we’re great at singing about them, which is what
we must do, seduce the ferryman with song so they cross the river alone
because it’s not our time yet, there are still balloons to chase high up
in the sky and phone calls to answer, friend or foe, it doesn’t matter
we’re ready for a higher purpose, a nonstop super star show
where we put all our cards on the table, take ‘em or leave ‘em
this is who we are, but now we’re self-portraits open to suggestions
ways to improve ourselves and the world around us
anyway, when it’s all over, Tim Burton is nowhere to be seen
but the whole block is pulsating with a strange joyful energy
like a new home being constructed before our very eyes, how it’s welcoming
all lonely souls with open arms and as we walk back to our car
which is parked near Coco, I think about how we stopped there for drinks
before the show and there was this older woman sitting by herself at the bar
eating fries and when we make eye contact, she bursts into a smile
and proceeds to tell me how she has been living by herself
through all of this and even though it’s been tough, she’s so happy
to be vaccinated, that maybe all we need is to share the same space
and we can figure it out from there, I tell her I’m going to the theater
that she should go too