replaces the light
on the front porch,
on this blistering July
afternoon,
i sit in the cool dark
of my
living room
and read Charles Simic.
i feel guilty,
so i bring the man cold
water.
a better ladder.
i ask him
if he's hungry.
he hesitates, then says
no.
i make him a ham
sandwich
and bring it out to him.
then at last,
my guilt assuaged,
i leave him alone.
i return to the book
once more, and read
Coney Island,
again, before turning
the page.
No comments:
Post a Comment