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"The only journey is the one within" - Ranier Maria Rilke




 

Homeless

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he's brusque, dirty, torn,
yet he moves from street to street.
behind his smile must lay the story,
the grief.
wish I could bring him to a warm bed
far from his cold cries.
I met him at Starbucks.
says he cut his hand
picking through garbage.
he wears a hat with a hole in it.
swears he has a girlfriend
though she's mad at him today.

speaks of his daughter,
her blue eyes, Sunday dress.
holds an old faded photo.
mumbles a jumbled phrase
then says she's as kind as a kitten.
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.
he lifts his fists.
get lost in his own hurricane.
then melts into moans.
young tongues mock. 
adults judge.

he's lost his rightful human way.
what is the antidote?
he stands alone on this pitiless Earth,
fighting for each breath.
some say a faltering brain cannot be repaired.
the sun dims. night returns silence, 
quiet hours for this old soldier.
at his outpost he'll catch sleep
while the world moves
further away from him.

 

 

 

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 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.
got himself more goodies.
he's not lucky,
I said.
he’s smart.

 

 

 

 

 

© 2021 K.J. Baker