Homeless

they speak cheap shots.
make him into 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.
he recalls her eyes
when she saw him lay
in the doorway.
her hand out stretched.

for him life is oblique,
skewed in the city's underbelly,
the scaly streets, the cold sidewalks
and nerves of night.
at times, he hides behind his tent
fearful of bullies.
but give him a coin and he thanks you.

some days old ghosts rise.
he moans. lifts his fists.
gets lost in his own hurricane.
fights the worthless air.
young tongues mock.
adults judge.

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.

Waterfront Watch

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

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

we drifted. hit rocks.
lost our rudder.
then over the shoals we floated.
all we could do was watch
our ship reach bottom.

today, dockside,
a wild wisp of gravelly air
freshens me.
my worries soften.
I raise my sails.
the riverfront trees,
the slow rolling ripples
lift me.
my drowsy hours are gone.
my boots pack a blaze.

I walk. flash on a bright red skirt
and its shiny pearl buttons.
her look spreads through my mind.
I love her sassy walk.
our eyes meet.
she gives a warm smile.
our thoughts crisscross.
then she laughs, curls her lips.
same here.
my senses fly.
ah yes, I'm back.
I can start planning
my next stop,
cozy moonlight walks.