He is so often there
Corner of 44th and Lexington
At the breakfast hour
Tall and thin, matted hair Roughly shaven
With his jeans and cane
Who dresses him, prepares him
For the day
Hands him the cane and combs his hair
To set him on his way
To pace the waking hours
Between 44 and 43
With words that issue endlessly?
And who looks out for him
His health care and income
Ensures the police will leave
His corner well alone
So he can swear, disclaim and eat
Not waste away entirely
Before he goes to sleep?
On mornings when he is not there
I think about him even more.
*****
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I remember him, fondly. He certainly knew a way to save the world.
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