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The Parade by Billy Collins

How exhilarating it was to march 
along the great boulevards 
in the sunflash of trumpets 
and under all the waving flags— 
the flag of ambition, the flag of love. 

So many of us streaming along— 
all of humanity, really— 
moving in perfect step, 
yet each lost in the room of a private dream. 

How stimulating the scenery of the world, 
the rows of roadside trees, 
the huge curtain of the sky. 

How endless it seemed until we veered 
off the broad turnpike 
into a pasture of high grass, 
headed toward the dizzying cliffs of mortality. 

Generation after generation, 
we keep shouldering forward 
until we step off the lip into space. 

And I should not have to remind you 
that little time is given here 
to rest on a wayside bench, 
to stop and bend to the wildflowers, 
or to study a bird on a branch— 

not when the young 
are always shoving from behind, 
not when the old keep tugging us forward, 
pulling on our arms with all their feeble strength.


----
2010
"A parade is continuous. It is Exciting, Exhilarating, Noisy, Crowded, HECTIC. It has performances, marching bands, dances. It is a show, a show that never stops for a break but only when it ends. The speaker compares this to man's lifestyle, and it seems that it might never change." 
----

2017
A young Singaporean man shouts and I am immediately picked up by my hoodie and dropped into Tekong. The birds and the trees sound the same, but my back is slicked with anxiety. There were many parades here. 
I stand, again, beside two of my peers. The sun is kind today, and the wind my friend. The birds call again. 
On the red coarse we go, yet again, over and over. Boots thudding, droplets forming. I tilt my head to ensure that I am in line.
Two more hours, but we get a break soon. I will sprint to the toilet and pee into a clogged urinal. It will splatter onto my browned white shoes. 
I sprint back, and make small talk. Laboured heaves then it begins again. 

I catch a breeze back to home now. People are in black, blue, with white tops and brown sandals. Not a lot of them wear olive green around here. 

I make a circle with both my hands. 
"You know my seminal moment" I say, 

you tell me to love a girl no matter what. 
To allow myself to fall.

I tell you that I can't let myself, I won't. 
For you see, life is eternal in my eyes, and I am still a little baby boy, with his life ahead of me. 
You call me old, but that does little on me. 

I will die when I'm 90, maybe more, and,

therefore, 
I will have to make my choices wisely,
and slowly.




A man in a red hard hat ties himself to a tree branch up in the sky. He climbs expertly, probably to trim the branches. I smile at his skill, it is 9.07am. 
I go to the printing room to begin my day. 

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