shoes off, eyes open,
man sits silent as a stone wall,
dreaming down at the book in front of him
with a quiet stubbornness none of us can comprehend,
pushing a patient officer past his point of compromise.
maybe last night he swallowed the moon,
or crumbled it from the sky into a silver spoon.
maybe he is the buddha in deep meditation,
or all his woes have suddenly rushed to his throat,
choking him on his troubles.
or maybe the idea of laying his bruised hips back
down on that relentless pavement
drove him to use his silence & bare feet to gift them a bed.
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Categories: Poetry, Uncategorized
