Saturday, December 1, 2018

Hospital Socks

That was the tip-off
You know the ones
with the corrugated soles


His sneakers off and lying in a doorway
across from South Station
stretched out on a nice summer morning
70 degrees, little muggy
Not a bad morning to sleep late
to sleep in
The doorway wasn't the best choice
businesses were opening
doorways being cleared
of newspapers, trash, vagrants
I didn't see the hospital bracelet
one arm tucked under him
one propping his head
off the concrete step
How did he manage to stuff
slipper socks into his sneakers
unless they were hand-me-downs
I didn't stick around
for someone to roust him
foggy with crusted eyes
complaining he hadn't had
enough sleep just yet
Could they hold off
and did she have a smoke?

No comments:

Post a Comment

Mother's Day 1939

“Take out the crib and leave the playpen, Doc. The diapers that I’ve got are wearing thin, the oldest boy has rickets and the skin...