45/365: driving to work (published in Vine Leaves)

on the street where the grass grows tall

next to the wooden fences that have drank
the sun's whiskey heat too many days

I see an old man walking

as scarecrows walk in dreams:
his body rail tall and rail thin,
he leans on a drug store cane -
an adjustable aluminum tube with a grey handle
like a dusty Christmas decoration.

this is a sound bite of a life
out of context.

just as I pass him, he pauses in the path
using the stopper foot of the cane
to sweep up and aside
a curled page of newspaper.
it does not belong on the path
of the sidewalk-less shoulder.
this is a statement he wishes to make.