1. CUFF, WALLET AND SHOELACE
Rolls up his sleeves to work on a paper.
He carries paper fortunes in his wallet, hematite in his
pocket.
A shoelace tied to the earpieces of his reading glasses.
Half the world is at home tonight and the rest on the
road.
Driver’s license no guarantee.
Medical necklace, distinguishing features, complexion no
certainty.
In cases like these, there’s always room for doubt.
One is busy with baby steps.
Hospital tucks have made the bed sheets tense.
His face insults the mirror, his look says it all.
In shirtsleeves underdressed.
In pajamas, a man with no visible means.
2. RADIO, ALARM CLOCK, SUITCASE ON WHEELS
Alarms the tenor of the time.
Wallet in his pocket, soul in his body.
Laces and cuffs in place, brain in his head.
Rituals downstream by now, dreams downstream, the
night erased.
Would be a wolf among sheep.
Goes into the world, like they say, holstered, in touch.
Gets the day from the radio: rain, and his heart on his
sleeve.
Alarm clock folded away, now hiding its face among the
socks
You too given your lot.
Can you sell it, will it show us ourselves in a new light?
Wheels away from the hotel lobby early bird exit.
Tries not to leave a mess for the maid.
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