Meanwhile,
A kid works up a sweat in the sun
Telling the asphalt the
Story of a pastel
Man making music.

He sits on the street, greets
A mangey old dog with a
Song and a
Belly rub, there.

Later on he lets
That dog eat the rest of his
Overdressed salad
And while it digests a
Reporter gets down on
One knee asking
"Are you depressed?"
Oh, he just smiles, says
"Nah man, I'm blessed."

Finished, he admires, then
Hurries inside and
Quietly regrets that the sidewalk
Always forgets.

The morning brings headaches,
Black bruises, and stains
From long-soaking spills,
Crumbs ground into carpets by stumbling heels,
Meaningless messages scrawled careless on walls were
Written by bored ******* waiting to fall.
A cake is uneaten on the floor, overturned,
On the counter behind it the cutlery, spurned,
Is covered in *****, the
Price of a night spent
Waiting for comets.

I used to wait all year to
Hear the small clicks as
Tiny rocks from
Our garden scratched
My window.

Stumbling out of bed, I
Sped out to
Race the sunrise.

I remember how the morning felt in the field as
The bluebirds looked on, curious. It
Was wild and I knew
What being a man
Meant when
I scared off a big dog one day that
Made some of the girls scream.

We always went to work without words, when
We got to the clearing,
Surround by the silence of the
Dew-drenched morning, almost unable to
Wait for the berries we knew would be so, so
Sweet.