After the Fact

once upon a sometime awhile ago
you were known as a voice
that grumbled
moaned
screamed
and spoke
for me.

now I look in deadend alleys lit by sodium lamps
and along neon strips teeming with endless babble
to find a new meaning 
or maybe just to find
something to say

but always a breeze passes by my shoulder
whispering a 
grumble
a moan
a scream
a word
telling me something else
and when I turn to find the whisper the breeze
passes by my shoulder like a gale
leaving the hint ringing in my ears

for five years now I've searched for answers
to unknown questions
that even the insane wouldn't dare ask
for risk of a snug jacket
and I miss them as they pass by my shoulder
away from me