dr_con Posted May 21, 2009 Share Posted May 21, 2009 In the Rain In the rain grace dominates, vision is blurred voices are muffled and junkies and drunks reveal their god forms. Sisyphus pushes a cart wrapped in plastic garbage bags, a burden eternal and long. Tony offers me a caramel, in my condition wet with kundalini neck pains, I politely refuse distrustful of his toothless grin. We talk, old friends, or newborn strangers, beneath bus shelter, waiting for a way out- He's HIV positive, sharing needles with a friend knowing the risks, but too high to be brought low by future possibilities, and I agree with his picture only six years ago before the roots rotted, 210 lbs a body builder, no matter how I squint I can't see his past, standing over his stooped tooth free- frame. On his 56 birthday they removed them all now, three weeks later, he gets his dentures he wishes he had stayed with heroin- I should have payed more attention trying to write this poem the first time, cynical and cold, making as much sense as your night mumbles, squirrels & robots beneath our dripping eaves I tell the story of an old Hell's Angel confessing that if he had known he would live to 40, he would not have done those things in his 20s, and we laugh shake hands, and get on different buses his obligatory "God Bless," my smile watching the lumbering angels in the rain. Quote thegateless.org Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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