I approach the traffic signal that stands
In its service for guidance
At the intersection
Of Frederick avenue and 10th street.

To my left is the statue of the gallant Pony Express rider,
And just to my right
Entering my field of vision is a
Man of some years.

These years are
Tucked away throughout a
Bent chassis.

And bent he was,
He was one
Who looked as though the labor of ten
Ordinary fellows
Passed across his crooked spine.

He was smoking a cigarette and walking,
Rather shuffling, short, stuttered steps
Southward perhaps to the
Wesley Towers senior living apartments
On the next block,
Or making his way to the
Patterson senior center one block
Further for some
Pitch with some pals.

I had to wonder,
Yet somehow to me
It was known, that this fellow
Walking so slow,
Built this old river city.