ISSUE: Spring 2008
Crumpled under a doomsday sign,
You roamed the streets
Convinced the day will come
You’ll be meeting the Lord,
His face coming briefly into view
As the crowd pushes
Toward the subway entrance.
Come night, you vanished
With your tattered raincoat,
Your gray beard and flowing hair,
And your homemade sign
Warning of God’s displeasure.
One time, with nothing better to do,
I followed your usual route,
Peeking into doorways and alleyways
Favored by the destitute,
Wondering if you had a friend,
Or were alone in the world?
