No Destination

A Saturday
      liquid with sunshine,
he meanders

he does not hurry, for he has no destination

yellow brick
    pockmarked
      chipped
no houses rendered unique
 by
   necessity
     and indifference
a suburban labyrinth

seedy-looking grocery stores
     children
       dart
         back and forth
      like startled fish

losing and finding himself endlessly

this act of faith
     locked in domestic grief

the last voluntary movement of his life
  he
   reaches
    his
     hand
      toward

the gun
  
   click
     bang
the last voluntary movement of his life

  his annoyance blossomed into self-hate

beyond the light,
 everything
  is
   obscured
    by
     darkness