sweet peppers

one ear
stuffed with life, full
of debris,
the roar of the world
is muffled, dulled
for him.
his blue eyes blurred
in color,
squinting,
unable to know
whether red or green,
to stop or go,
which sign
leads where, he presses
the pedal
forward. it doesn't
matter though, for in
the spring, if he has
another, he will
kneel in his small
garden and massage with
old hands
the soil to make sweet peppers
rise
and bloom again.