the rag man
sits under the freeway bridge
while it rains
a small lizard crawls out of
the sandy soil
its emotionless eye focused
the desolate day
breeds sand blown wind burned faces
a chill wind speaks its mind to him
and while he huddles within his torn coat
and with one eye bare to the world
watching for the rains retreat
the rag man eats slow
savours the fresh water fish taste
of his divided mind
waits for the rain to retreat
remnants of his life
cling to his pocket
lint covered photographs
dust filled half remembered dreams
he believes he carries all he will ever need for
the road he sits by that
follows the coast down into the sunny islands
where they say you can live on the beach
where all you need is a dream to thrive
each sound is the great beyond
trying to tell him significant moments of his day
no rattle of the chain to be taken lightly
even the silence has voice in the grand scheme
even if its single contribution
is futility of waiting
step boldly or timid as doormouse
but step kiddo step
the freeway is a river
upon which the concepts we call lives float
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 1:52 AM UTC
the rag man
sits under the freeway bridge
while it rains
a small lizard crawls out of
the sandy soil
its emotionless eye focused
the desolate day
breeds sand blown wind burned faces
a chill wind speaks its mind to him
and while he huddles within his torn coat
and with one eye bare to the world
watching for the rains retreat
the rag man eats slow
savours the fresh water fish taste
of his divided mind
waits for the rain to retreat
remnants of his life
cling to his pocket
lint covered photographs
dust filled half remembered dreams
he believes he carries all he will ever need for
the road he sits by that
follows the coast down into the sunny islands
where they say you can live on the beach
where all you need is a dream to thrive
each sound is the great beyond
trying to tell him significant moments of his day
no rattle of the chain to be taken lightly
even the silence has voice in the grand scheme
even if its single contribution
is futility of waiting
step boldly or timid as doormouse
but step kiddo step
the freeway is a river
upon which the concepts we call lives float
Request permission to use this poem