Homeless

he's a soul they throw
cheap shots at.
a punching bag,
half toothless.
he sits by the curb.
waits for new clothes.
I met him at Starbucks.
says he cut his hand
picking through garbage.
wears a hat with a hole in it.
still he laughs.
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.
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, cold sidewalks
and nerves of night.
but give him a coin and he thanks you.

at times old ghosts rise.
he moans. lifts his fists.
gets lost in his own hurricane.
young tongues mock. 
adults judge. cops watch.

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

Watrerfront Watch

smoke, sky trails.
the tug turns, squirms,
then steers upriver.
the wheat has to move.
but with all that commotion,
you’d think a warship was out there.

today no sun.
the somber air is thick.
I watch a gull poke blood thirsty
into the glistening waves.
in life nothing dies easy.

we drifted. hit rocks.
fell upon stone pillows.
our world ripped apart
as we went over the shoals.
all we could do was watch
our ship reach bottom.

today, dockside,
the gravelly air freshens me.
my stubborn cries have ceased.
I raise my sails.
the riverfront trees,
the slow rolling ripples
lift me.
put a blaze in my boots.

I walk. flash on a bright red skirt.
those shiny buttons tag me.
oh yes, yes, yes,
I love her sassy walk.
if only I could put her
in my pocket and take her home.
our eyes meet.
she gives a warm smile.
our thoughts crisscross.
then she laughs, curls her lips.
same here.
ah yes, I'm back.