limping forward

everyone is limping
into
the future. slouched
victims
of something.
disease, divorce,
diminishing returns on
blue chip stocks,
asking for spare change,
directions to places
they don't even want
to go.
everyone is looking
into everyone else's
eyes
for compassion, a little
kindness.
something not for sale,
anything
you can't buy.
they want to tell you
how they got there,
how they got the limp,
look at my leg, they say.
just look at it
and cry with me,
but you only half
listen
as you lean against
the wall, your own leg
throbbing.
the less you tell me,
the more
i'll like you, is my
only reply.