Lucky

he lurched from the bushes.
stared. declared his presence.
I was staunch, resolute.
no I said.
but he demanded.
he put his chin on my knee.
gave me the all of his two bold eyes.
his red collar said Lucky.
he grew bolder.
sat right beside me.
shameless I said.
I jostled.  turned away.
pretended not to notice.
I did my best but his zestful
look had mastery.
humans never greet me
with such affection.
I gave him a half sandwich.
this little fox ate to his pleasure.

I ambled to the park.
sat by a picnic table.
he trotted behind me like my BFF.
no, I said. no more.
go chase a bird.
he refused.
he put his chin back on my knee
and looked straight up.
I broke. 

later I saw him nudge another.
found more goodies.
he's not lucky,
I said.
he’s smart.

Homeless

(view full image)

if you don't understand suffering,
you will not understand him.
he won't even look at you.
swears he has a girlfriend.
walks with tiny steps
while he thinks about where he is
and where he's been.
staying clean is hard.
keep away from me faces pass him by.
he plays guitar for a few cents
but looks down at the ground.
once a gifted kid with a trophy build,
now his body thin like a twig.

speaks of his daughter,
her soft blue eyes, Sunday dress.
holds an old faded photo.
says he hasn't grown tired of love
but knows he'll never find it.

for him, life is oblique,
skewed in the city's underbelly,
the scaly streets,
the nerves of night.
but give him a coin and he thanks you.

at times old ghosts rise.
when they do, he lifts his fists.
gets lost in his own hurricane.

young tongues mock.
adults judge.
he's lost his rightful human way.

what's the antidote? 
some say a faltering brain cannot be repaired.
the sun dims. another day down.
night returns silence, 
quiet hours for this old soldier.
at his outpost, he lays low.
boots on. he'll catch sleep
while the world moves
further away from him.