I Look at a Face
close by the water.
He carries a cane, intent on prayer
like a child in many ways.
The way he shakes his head.
At his back he hears the sweetest sound
and calls a cab to another life,
zig-zagging,
gaining height, wings raised high
under the dark metallic sheen
the coastal stars
some mysterious Holiness
as though through stained glass.
A young couple head for the opposite aisle.
There is a readiness about them
here and there
like a dusty breeze wasting a beautiful Sunday
on the path of grass.
I look at a face.
I see the damage is done.
Of course
and we stood in silence
and by purest chance a figure entered
and a door closed.
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