A WELL DRESSED MAN

In early sunlight

A well attired man

Seems to cry

Into space

With angry taunts

At street people

He holds

In disdain –

He would love

To toss them

In a burning

Abyss.

I notice his

Banal painted

Snakeskin

Boots

And as I walk

North on cloudy

Kimble Avenue

I approach him

Wishing I crossed

The street

And feel

Resonant anxiety

And he says to me

(Or at me)

“Look at the

Lazy bums…!”

And I want

To tell him

That he is

Sick

With stereotyped

Rage.

He points again

With the bony

Finger

Of Uncle Sam

So the sun

Hangs doubtfully

In fog

And I feel

A need

For a nice

Warm shower

To wash off

Family dust

That identifies

With the man’s

Demonic

Almost black

Eyes,

And I feel

Such sadness –

His soul

Is like

Empty water

Of a

Stagnant pond.

Internally,

I bless this

Statued man

As the wheels

Spin clockwise

And as I

Head back home

The warm

Wind

Relaxes me

In whistling

Waves.

4/10-4/26-2016