You are not even dead yet.
I saw you again this morning
in Penn Station. In your disguise.
Small, thin, elderly. Dressed
haphazardly in unbuttoned layers.
With the cane, cap and scarf.
Unloved, but not as invisible
as you want. I don’t know what to feel.
I am glad to see you sometimes.
I think there is a tenderness
in you. Like the way a bird flies.
Other times I think it is to keep
people away. Always it is unrehearsed
need. A fist of need. Never having
food set before you.
linda gregg

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: