Among 
the buckets
and mops
a man pushes aside  

a sponge hoping to find
anything without a sharp
mildewed stink.
Somewhere he’s hidden
a meaning,
and his soul.
He’s sure.

Before the pails
filled with dank
green
liquid,
before the loss,
before diapers and rent
he dreamt 

of a midwest girl, 

five acres of bluegrass 

kissing the feet of a cabin, 

a horse named Scotch, 

and a secret escape 

near a creek 

where he could fish
...or not.

But today is not about
a childhood dream
never discovered after
hide and seek.
Today, like most days,
he fades into the structure 

with his monochromatic 

gray uniform 

and attitude. 

Children running, 

passing him,
taking him in as inventory.

Desks,
chairs,
chalk boards,
water fountains,
the half man in gray.
If not for bending over 

to pick up 

the page-puckered 

third grade reader, 

his eyes would have never been seen 

or a thank you uttered.

He is only spoken of
in children’s whispers.
The young ones
talk, with fabled tongues, 

of his home in the closet 

with a single 

pull-chain light and 

quickly hung 

supply store calendar 

still lingering 

on January.


Wedged between 

pink soap refills and 

puke litter 

are three tattered photos 

long neglected 

dusty with heartache.

Pigtails and freckles 

frame the eyes 

born matching his. 

Yellowed Kodak moments 

embrace memories departed

but longed for 

in a girl, now woman, 

disconnected and tortured.

A white-haired matriarch 

crayon outlined lips 

around an endless smile 

of fraggled teeth. 

She wears her love and life 

in experience lines 

like rings in a tree. 

He wears her name in a heart 

on the forearm tattoo 

he got an the first anniversary 

of her death.

The last, 
a boy 

strapping 

bat in hand 

trophy at his feet.
Tugging at 

the brace on his knee 

he remembers it more vividly 

than the photograph. 

What he cannot recall 

are the cheers and praise. 

The stench of the closet, like motor oil
and any pre-Monday night,
trumps it all.

He didn't choose today
but today has a way of reminding him
it’s here and stretching on
into forever.
What an icy gambler today is,
seeing our dreams and
calling our bluffs
until we’d simply
settle for “hello”.