The Warehouse District

crossing guard

The forward lean and curve of his back are athletically purposed.The shopping cart wheels swim on the back alley dirt. This is the wrong side of the tracks for some, a living business opportunity for others. His Shaq size shoes are double knotted and stuffed with newspaper; a constant reminder that he’s no giant among men, but a small simple man walking the alleys of a small simple town. Crosswalks aren’t painted at alleyways, but there’s little concern. His emergence is signaled by his crossing guard, which he pushes onto gently crowned streets. Drivers are courteous and give him wide berth, and he, in turn, thanks them, with kind gestures along his daily parade route.

Somehow

I am noun made whole
by your verb made flesh

accompany my spring

flower my summer

come to my falls and
envelop my winter

all grass leaps for your laughter

all fires cry for your breath

all trees ache for your mystery

all water boils at our death

soil me with your presence
and cleanse me with your smile

leave me all the better
and stay with me awhile