There he is: the ragged man
roughly bearded
with eyes empty as bone white saucers
he walks for eternity
through the drug ravaged streets
his arms hanging like broken wings
his heart and his mind
two cisterns echoing.
He walks right passed me
his irises still as glass
I am just a ghost
passing, passing, passing
I continue along
the ice capped sidewalk
as a Cadillac passes
resonating the slurs of ghetto prophets.
I walk on
and the ragged man’s face begins to fade.
The street lamps awaken
and the sidewalks file the forlorn
like a wild midnight train.
